


On the other side

by esama



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AgriCorps (Star Wars), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aquaponics, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Hydroponics, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unresolved Emotional Tension, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13003122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: ...always greener the grass is, said Yoda, at some point, probably.Dozen years ago Obi-Wan went into AgriCorps - now Qui-Gon Jinn is taking a new padawan. Somehow,  this is Obi-Wan's problem.





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan leans heavily to the tractor wire while the ship's hatch closes around him, pulling him and the cargo hatch into the ship proper. It's been a long day and he's looking forward to the peace and quiet of his ship, to its familiar noises and smells – as opposed to the mess of the planet he's on. There's only so much dung smell one can handle before it starts to permeate seemingly through every pore and if he could, if he had the capability, he'd love a bath now, a long bath, a hot one, with all sorts of soaps and maybe even perfumes, just to try and get some of it out of his system.

But it had been a productive day all the same and though he's exhausted, he can't say he's not satisfied.

"Sir, sir, sir, a message, there is a message, sir," a mechanical voice peeps from within – one of his floating monitor droids, who is bopping excitedly in the air not far from the closing hatch.

Obi-Wan arches a brow and then straightens his back, stretching. "How urgent?" he asks, rather plaintively. There's a bit of dirt raining from him onto the cargo bay floor, a rain of little particles, and he sighs. He might not have the facilities for a long soak in the tub – even if he did, he wouldn't utilise them anyway, too big a waste of water. But he has a sonic shower and right now it has his name on it.

"Urgent – from _Jedi High Council_ , urgent!"

Obi-Wan stops at that. That's… unusual. Utterly, completely unheard of, really. Jedi High Council, as in the _Jedi High Council_ , in _Coruscant_? "Alright then," he says, more confused than excited. "Um. Play it out?"

The droid – MD-5 – bobs and weaves in the air excitedly. "Can't, can't – it's a _holo_ ," the droid beeps and flails its little splindly metal arms around. "It's in the cockpit, sir."

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, pushing the loose strands back from his face. A holo, from Jedi High Council? That's… "Right," he says and shakes his head. Clean up could wait then, he thinks, frowning a little, and then sets out. "Anything to report?" he asks, as he heads through the short cargo bay area, towards the doors leading into the ship interior.

"Blip in the 14th line, again – MD-3 thinks it's a build up," MD-5 says, bopping in the air and then hurriedly following him. "MD-3 want to clean the pipes, again."

"We already cleaned them _twice_ ," Obi-Wan mutters and waits for the metal doors to open. They do, slowly, jamming slightly on the withdraw as they always do, and with a sigh he shimmies around them, giving the door a light kick to make it open properly. "There must be a feedback loop of some sort – or leak back into the system. We need to check the new pods, might be they're not sealed up as tight as they ought."

"Yes, sir," the droid agrees and bops in the air to nod. "Aside from that, everything is within normal growth parameters, as it should. The new samples are coming along nicely, we've compiled a report on growth rate – the medium seems to be working fine now."

"Good," Obi-Wan says, pausing on the corridor and taking a moment to just breathe the more familiar, soothing scents of his ship. It's not quite enough to rid him the scent of dung in his nostrils, but it's a start.

The corridor ahead of him is covered from floor to ceiling – and all over the ceiling too – with plants. They grow out from racks and pipes in the walls, their leaves and vines almost enough to hide the complete system of pipe work that support them – in some places, only the constant bubbling of water and the occasional hiss of water being misted in the aeroponics systems gives them away.

It's good to be home, Obi-Wan thinks, closing his eyes and just inhaling the scent of his plants, taking in the slightly humid air greedily – revelling in how much cooler his ship is than the sun-scorched, draught-strangled planet outside. He only has sympathy and understanding for the people of this world, most every species out there gets agriculture wrong when they're handed all the tools and none of the understanding, but still…

He can't _wait_ to get out of here.

But there is the message from the Jedi High Council waiting for him, and that could mean… anything, and probably is nothing he can now imagine, Obi-Wan thinks. He's never been contacted by the High Council before, he has no idea what it might be about – it could be _anything._ Might even be that he's not, in fact, about to get out of here… who knows.

Nothing to it, but to check it out, he thinks, and with another deep inhale he sets forward again, idly trailing his hands over the leaves and vines and curling branches all around him, taking strength from their ambient Living Force.

The plants cover just about every inch of his ship, nowadays. They'd started out in the laboratories and in the hydroponics bay – which was why he _got_ this ship in the first place. Eventually they'd spilled out from the labs into the small kitchen, into the living areas, into his bedroom, and finally into the corridors, with hydroponics systems build all over the walls and floors and sometimes, yes, ceilings. Now every corner of his ship is lit in various plant lights and the cargo bay is the only place without a single plant present.

Even the cockpit has not survived the slow, steady onslaught of plants, Obi-Wan thinks somewhat ruefully and with a brief touch to a wreath of vines that have covered the doorway, he slips into the pilot's seat, automatically checking the systems, glancing at the jury-rigged readout that monitors the water supply on board, before turning to the comms unit.

Four messages – one from Hahsona, one from the ArgiCorps Council, and… _two_ from Jedi High Council.

"You said there was _a_ message," Obi-Wan points out to MD-5.

"There _was,_ " the spherical droid says and nervously weaves in air. "It must have just come in."

That's not alarming at all, Obi-Wan thinks, running a hand through the loose strands of hair about his face again, and then shaking his head.

Then he hits play on the first message from the Jedi High Council

His heart _throbs_ when the visage of Grand Master Yoda appears on the holodisplay, mere fifteen centimetres tall and glowing faintly blue. It had been _years_ since he'd seen the Grand Master of their Order, even in recording – he didn't think it would still hurt this much.

" _Obi-Wan Kenobi,_ " the recording begins. " _Hope well this message finds you and that your mission in Fetlon-La prosperous has been – finished we understand it now is, and as such some free time you have ahead of you. A request, this Jedi Council has of you – decline it you may, and judge you no one will for doing so._ "

Obi-Wan frowns, leaning back in the pilot's chair. "Ominous," he murmurs.

"How is it ominous – he sounds nice?" MD-5 asks, confused, and Obi-Wan just shakes his head as the message continues.

" _Remember Master Qui-Gon Jinn I think you do,"_  the Grand Master continues and Obi-Wan's mind goes oddly, almost blissfully quiet. " _A quandary he has presented to the Jedi Council and something of a troubling issue it is. His wisdom in the matter question is on count of you – his judgement in question is. Test his judgement we wish, and to that end a task we have given him involving you._ "

The Grand Master falls quiet for a moment and Obi-Wan thinks of – nothing. His mind is completely empty, drawing a perfect, quiet, _blank_. Then Yoda continues. " _Obi-Wan Kenobi, ask we do that for a time as guests you take on Qui-Gon Jinn and his prospective Padawan. Accompany they may you on your missions but defer to them you need not – observing only they will be for a time._ "

The little Grand Master nods, his message delivered. " _Decline this mission you may and no consequences to you there will be,"_  he then says and bows his head. " _May the Force be with you_."

The recording ends, the image of the grandmaster shuddering before it disappears and is then replaced by another image, of another Jedi Master – the very Master of the Order.

" _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ ," Master Mace Windu says, briskly. " _This message concerns the last message from the Grand Master, which I understand explained very little. Qui-Gon Jinn is, after years of declining prospective Padawan Learners from within the Order, now choosing to take one from outside the Order. The Jedi High Council doubts his judgement in this. To test his judgement and the wisdom of his actions, his mission with you, his task, is to see you, observe you in action and in duty, and determine if his refusal to accept you a his Padawan learner twelve years ago was the right one. Depending on whether he learns anything on this task or not, we may refuse his request to take this outsider as his student_."

The Master of the Order bows his head. " _Please send in your reply within two days time from the arrival of this message. May the Force be with you_."

The message ends, before Obi-Wan can quite figure out what he just learned.

"Um," MD-5 says behind him, motors whirring as the little droid bobs and weaves in air nervously.

Obi-Wan blinks, slowly, and then reaches out to play the messages again. And then, after they've played once, he replays them again, paying closer attention to the wording.

Well… that's something. The Jedi High Council knows who he is – they remember him… even if they only remember him as the Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn did not take as his Padawan Learner, Obi-Wan thinks, finally able to form some sort of cohesive thought. And now his worth to them is in, what, teaching Qui-Gon Jinn a lesson? What lesson?

Obi-Wan looks away from the holodisplay, his eyes scanning over the consoles and readouts on his ship. Most everything reads out normal – he would need to get refill of filter materials soon, and maybe refill the water tanks when he got the chance, but for now all systems are showing up green. It's comforting, to look around and see no issues that demand his immediate attention – though right now he wishes there was an issue. He'd rather like a distraction, right now.

"Sir?" MD-5 asks, swinging through the air and into his field of view. "Aren't you going to reply to them?"

Obi-Wan drums his fingers against the pilot's seat hand rest and then stands up. "I need to think. Go wake up TR-34 for me, will you, please?"

MD-5 lets out a beep of alarm and then speeds out of the cockpit, swinging out of sight and past the plants in a hurry, while Obi-Wan looks at his hands. He has dirt under his nails, a smear of something brown on the back of his right hand. Probably shit, he thinks wryly.

He really needs to wash, but more than that… there's a well of anxious energy bubbling up inside him now and he thinks he could probably meditate it away – but he doesn't want to.

MD-5 has his practice droid up and ready in the cargo bay when Obi-Wan gets there. TR-34 is an old, tall battle droid, repurposed some half a dozen times before she'd come to Obi-Wan and gotten repurposed again – this time as a training droid. She's already holding one of the practice poles when Obi-Wan gets back to the cargo bay – the only space he has left in the ship, these days, which is big enough for sparring.

"Feeling itchy, sir?" the droid asks, and swings the practice pole she's holding around. "How would you like it, today? Something smooth, something rhythmic – perhaps something athletic."

"Let's go with fast today, TR," Obi-Wan says and grabs a pole, holding it towards her. She considers his stance and then, without further ado, attacks him.

Twenty minutes later, Obi-Wan's hands are shaking with the strain of trying to hold the droid off, and he's even more tired than he already was, after a whole day of working the fields of Fetlon-La. Reading his wavering posture and shaking arms, TR-34 stops her assault and steps back smoothly, returning her pole to her side.

"All done, sir?" she ask coolly, eying him.

Obi-Wan pants for a breath, collapsing to sit on the floor on his knees and just breathe. Now he's twice as dirty and sweaty as before, and his arms are shaking with the effort of trying to hold them up – so he doesn't, letting them fall to his sides. "All done, thank you TR," Obi-Wan says, just breathing deeply for a moment.

He feels… calmer. Calm enough to admit that it was a bit pathetic that even after twelve years, just the _mention_ of Qui-Gon Jinn's name still brings this out of him.

"You were sloppy today," TR-34 comments. "Dragging your feet and flailing about like untrained simpleton. I am disappointed. Sir."

"Thank you TR, you know just the thing to say to lift my spirits," Obi-Wan laughs and hangs his head, just breathing, letting his heart calm down.

"Truly, I am the wind beneath your wings, sir," she answers, dry and moves back towards her charging station. Her batteries are old – they leak charge like a sieve. "I recommend a shower, sir, and a hard look at your life decisions."

"Way ahead of you," Obi-Wan groans, but she's already switched off. Shaking his head, he pushes up to his shaking feet and then stumbles back into the ship proper. He needs a shower. And then he needs to decide what to answer to the Jedi High Council. But shower first.

Obi-Wan has been waiting for twelve years now. Qui-Gon Jinn can damn well _wait_ another half an hour.

Half an hour and somewhat indecently long sonic shower later, Obi-Wan isn't entirely sure how to reply to the Jedi Council. Master Yoda had said that he could decline and wouldn't be judged for it, Master Windu said no such things but actually told him what the whole thing is actually about and now he's left with the quandary of… what?

Scratching his wet beard somewhat confusedly, Obi-Wan tries to figure out what is actually being asked of him here. To house Qui-Gon Jinn and his prospective Padawan, sure, but… why? For Qui-Gon Jinn to see what became of him after the man had left him on Bandomeer with little more than lightsaber and _have a good life_ to see him through the following years?

Obi-Wan looks over the cockpit, taking it in and trying to see it through the eyes of someone else, someone who has never seen it before. He thinks the place is relatively clean. His monitoring droids keep the place tidy enough – it's not technically part of their job description, he only got them to keep an eye on all the plants and experiments, but they'd eventually expanded in their tasks to general assisting and eventually cleaning. The space ship had to be kept at least relatively clean and free of outside contaminants to keep foreign microbes from interfering with the experiments, after all. So, it's not… dirty.

It is sort of ramshackle, however. The space ship itself is about twice as old as Obi-Wan is and it's held together by thousands of repairs and patch up jobs. It flies slow and laborious and is far from the most impressive freighter in the galaxy. It's so awkward, in fact, that he's never been troubled much about it – no one even bothers to think about robbing a old, ugly hulk like his.

It's not exactly impressive result for twelve years of work, but it is his home.

Qui-Gon Jinn and his prospective padawan wouldn't be the firsts guests he'd had in the place, far from it. Obi-Wan even keeps couple of the cabins relatively clear of plants because how often other Agriculturists travel with him. Sometimes he even asks payment for ferrying people around, to bolster his small income, though usually he can make do by selling the harvests off the ship. In any case, having people in, even having them staying, that wouldn't be too much of trouble… so as long as they knew not to touch his plants.

But Qui-Gon Jinn isn't just _people._  And a prospective Padawan Learner too…

Running hands through his still slightly damp hair, Obi-Wan pushes the strands off his face and then turns to the holodisplay again. He had two other messages. Might as well have a look.

Hahsona, a Togruta Agriculturist who'd been one of Obi-Wan's early teachers, appears on the display in shimmering blue. " _I read your final reports from Fetlon-La – looks like a messy work_ ," the Togruta man says, not bothering with greetings, as usual. " _Good work on the irrigation – could use a bit more in way of other fertilisers, not just dung, but I guess you can't expect much from a place that was turned into a dustbowl. Can't wait to hear how that went down. You heading back to the Greenhouse? Let me know, I could use a sabacc partner_."

Obi-Wan snorts at that. Sabacc partner, sure, he thinks, and then plays the message from the AgriCorps Council.

" _Specialist Obi-Wan Kenobi. We have received your reports on the restoration efforts on Fetlon-La,_ " Doctor Axinda, the human woman who leads the Jedi Service Corps Agricultural Council, speaks in the hologram and bows. "Y _our efforts seem well spent. The planet's growing efforts will be under monitoring for years to come, but with your success, they should be well on their way to recovery_ …"

It's a basic after-mission congratulation message, except for one thing – Fetlon-La wasn't difficult enough mission to merit a message from the head of the AgriCorp Council. Obi-Wan folds his arms and waits to see the end of the message – and there it is.

" _We have been informed by the High Council in Coruscant that they are approaching you for a voluntary favour_ ," Doctor Axinda continues. " _Please take all the time you need to comply with the High Council's wishes, after your efforts in Fetlon-La you certainly deserve some time off your usual duties_."

There it is, Obi-Wan thinks and sighs, running a hand over his face. He should've expected it. Please do everything you can to please the High Council and comply to all their wishes and demands in your _totally_ voluntary mission. All it's missing is pointed look and a wink and a nudge – though Axinda is far too reserved for something like that.

Any chance to remind the Jedi High Council that the service corps do valuable work too, right?

"Right," Obi-Wan mutters and tilts his head back, to peer at the ceiling.

Does he want Qui-Gon Jinn back in his life, even if just for a moment? No, not really. The time he'd known the man had been brief and it had been years ago, he'd not exactly been pining for him since, except… maybe a little, the way of those who were Aged Out of their chance of ever becoming Jedi Knights and had to become service corps members, they all pined a little.

Ask any one of them, "Who was your last," and they'd all have a name and story for the Last Time They'd Been Rejected. And Obi-Wan's was Qui-Gon Jinn, a relatively famous member of the Jedi Order. It's a story he's told more times he can count, to a sympathetic audience of other Jedi Service Corp members.

But still, he'd thought he'd left it behind, that… that _longing_ for it, and the bitterness for the life he hadn't gotten to lead. He'd found his footing with the AgriCorps and he'd made what he could of it. He has his ship, he has his duties, he's doing pretty damn well.

Why does it _still_ sting?

Sighing Obi-Wan looks down at the holodisplay and then reaches out to play the Council messages again. "… _his mission with you, his task, is to see you, observe you in action and in duty, and determine if his refusal to accept you as his Padawan learner twelve years ago was the right one…_ "

He could've been a Knight once, Obi-Wan thinks and lifts one foot off the floor and to rest against the edge of his seat, so that he can rest an elbow on his knee. He could've been trained, become a Knight, become a Master. Now his greatest merit to the Jedi High Council is testing out one of their respectable Master, to see if he made a good or bad choice twelve years ago, and whether his reasoning is still sound.

Well… that is important too, Obi-Wan muses, closing his eyes. After all, Masters with poor judgement and failing sensibilities teaching a new generation of Jedi Knights, that's bad, right? Maybe he should be honoured.

He isn't really.

But he would like to be finally able to outgrow his childhood disappointments and just… leave behind the whole thing. This all is a terrible reminder that he hasn't really grown that much since then. He's still a bitter child, somewhere in the inside, Qui-Gon Jinn still makes him feel jealous and angry and betrayed. It would be nice to just move on from that all.

He doesn't like the idea… but maybe seeing Qui-Gon again could help. And maybe after it could finally become a non issue for him, a mere moment of his past no different from any other, and no more significant than any that came after.

He thinks he'd like that.

After a moment of thinking about it, Obi-Wan scrubs his hands over his face, trying to straighten his beard somewhat and then quickly pulls his hair up, trying the damp tresses with one of the hair bands collected around his left wrist. Might as well try and make himself presentable, he thinks wryly.

He has a message to send to the highly respected Jedi High Council, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Qui-Gon isn't pleased with the Jedi High Council's pronouncement would be an understatement. He won't say anything about it, of course not, even he has limits where it comes to disobeying the ultimate authority of the High Council, but… he is not pleased.

There is no point to this. There is no purpose. What were they hoping to prove? "Learn a lesson you might," Yoda said, which to Qui-Gon rings vaguely ominous and therefore all the cause to prepare for the worst, but regardless… he sees no point.

"Master Qui-Gon?" Anakin asks cautiously. "Who is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Qui-Gon sighs. It had taken effort to draw the boy out from somewhere in the depths of his memory. "He was a Jedi initiate that could have been my Padawan learner, once," he says. He's rejected dozens – perhaps hundreds – of prospective students over the years – Obi-Wan Kenobi was only one of many, remarkable only in how old he had been at the time, and how vehement Yoda had been in throwing them together. The old troll had gone so far as to manipulate missions for them both at the start of young Kenobi's time as Agriculturists to try and force a bond.

Qui-Gon had rejected it, as was his right, and he had not truly thought about the boy since. Kenobi had been strong in Force, but incessantly proud, even self righteous at times, thinking he was meant for bigger things… it had rubbed Qui-Gon the wrong way in him as it did with every prospective student who thought similarly. It had been especially noticeable because of Xanatos had been starting out then, making trouble and… good grief he hasn't thought of those times in a while.

"I don't know why the Jedi High Council thinks him important now. Kenobi went into the Jedi Service Corps – he became an agriculturist," Qui-Gon says and when Anakin just frowns up at him confusedly, explains; "a farmer. As far as I know he did well for himself."

Honestly he had not known much at all about the young man until the Jedi Council had brought it up again in his hearing concerning Anakin. He knows Kenobi is an AgriCorps Specialist now, and thus is working by himself unmonitored and unassisted by senior agriculturists, which he knows is no small thing… but aside from that he knows very little.

He has to admit, that bothers him too.

Anakin thinks about it for a moment. "Why is it up to him whether I become your student?" the boy asks. "If you haven't even seen him in years?"

"I have no idea, Anakin," Qui-Gon admits. _Because the Jedi High Council is made of crotchety, contrary old bastards, mostly_ , he thinks privately. The whole thing has that distinctive feeling of _we're going to bring you down a peg_ too, which makes him warier still.

"Still," Qui-Gon says and crouches down with a sigh, to get to Anakin's eye level. "For some reason Obi-Wan Kenobi's good opinion seems to matter to the Jedi High Council so we must make do to be civil," he says and hides his own reservations about the whole thing. "We might not like it, but we may as well be polite."

"Ican be polite to people I don't like," Anakin says, eager and easily obliging.

"I know you can, Ani," Qui-Gon chuckles and ruffles the boy's hair before looking away, at the city transport around them. The skyline of Coruscant is speeding faster around them – they're almost at the space docks now, it looks like. There, they would find their transport that would hopefully take them wherever Kenobi currently was. Hopefully the ride there would give him time to prepare Anakin for the potential worst.

What he worries him the most is that Obi-Wan Kenobi might not so be polite to them. The day Qui-Gon had rejected him might not have meant much to Qui-Gon – that day was marked in his memory more by his brush in with Xanatos than by Kenobi… but for Kenobi it was the day his dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight died.

There is a reason why the Service Corps members have little do with the Knights – and why they seem to prefer to keep it that way. At some point, all their dreams and hopes were rejected. It's not a lesser thing, to become member of the Service Corps, Qui-Gon thinks resolutely, they do enormous amount of good work in the Galaxy… but he knows most don't think that.

To most, it's a shame, a defeat, a failure… to wash up into the Service Corps. It breeds a lot of bitterness, between ranks. Qui-Gon might very well still be the source of all of Kenobi's ill thoughts. He certainly wouldn't be surprised if the Agricultural Specialist now hated him.

He resolves himself to be polite and cordial in face of any abuse Kenobi might try and throw at him – and to shield Anakin from it as well, the boy hardly deserves such treatment from anyone, let alone from a fellow Jedi.

He looks up as they hear hiss – the transport coming to a standstill. Qui-Gon rises to his feet and with a hand on Anakin's shoulder he steers the boy out and into the platform outside. There are people there, dozens of workers and travellers, hurrying to and fro from their transports, hauling with them luggage and cargo as they go.

"Our ship should be waiting for us on dock eighteen," Qui-Gon says. "Let's see if we can find it."

"Right," Anakin says determinately and looks around. "There's sixteen," he points out.

"Can't be far, then. Come on."

Weaving through the crowd, they make their way to the eighteenth dock. There are a couple of ships there, one of them a small cruiser with a crew of repairmen swarming around it, looking nowhere near prepared for a launch. The other is an old freighter, perhaps fifty meters in length and thirty in width, with little in way of paint job and only one man hanging around it, a long haired, bearded human who is sitting idle on a lowered cargo hatch, looking at a data pad.

"I suspect that one is our ride," Qui-Gon says, considering the freighter. It looks ready to go – the other is unlikely to get off ground anytime that day.

"We're flying on that?" Anakin asks, not quite making a face. Compared to the ships they'd flown so far – state of the art Naboo cruisers mostly – it's not much to look at.

"Jedi Agriculturists work in far-flung places," Qui-Gon says. "Mid and Outer Rim mostly, on planets where there is no proper local infrastructure to support their efforts. Chances are this is the only ship on short notice that might take us to wherever Kenobi is."

Qui-Gon rests a hand on Anakin's shoulder as they approach the man, Qui-Gon taking him in. Close fitting, work-worn slacks, loose dirty white tunic, and neither looks exactly new. The man's boots, Qui-Gon notices, are dirty – not merely a spacer then.

The man looks up at them, tilting the datapad to the side a little. "Master Jinn?" he asks, tentative. He's surprisingly young, under all the ginger hair.

"Yes," Qui-Gon says and bows his head. "Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn – and this is Anakin Skywalker. I hope we haven't been holding you up."

The man just looks at him for a moment strangely, and then stands up in one fluid motion, tucking the data pad under his arm. "Well, I did have to come all the way to the Core to pick you up, so it wasn't so much being held back as it was being completely diverted, but who's counting," the ginger man says, awkward, and then motions to the hatch. "If you're ready to go…?"

Qui-Gon frowns a little. "Yes," he says slowly. It's just this one man, manning the freighter? It's rather large ship, for just one man. "We are prepared to depart."

"Good," the other man says and motions to the hatch. "Come on then."

No introductions then. Well, spacers can be rude at times. Not everyone enjoys Jedi company. Hopefully they would have private rooms at least on board and wouldn't have to deal with the spacer much.

"Very well," Qui-Gon says and motions Anakin to go ahead. The boy shoulders his backpack higher and hops onto the hatch, Qui-Gon stepping up after him. The spacer glances them over – making sure Qui-Gon's cloak isn't about to get in-between the hatch and the ship's hull, before stepping onto the hatch himself.

Moments later they're being lifted up, the spacer leaning onto the tractor cable as they rise. The reason for that becomes quickly obvious – the cargo hatch stutters a little as it rises, making Qui-Gon and Anakin grab for support as well.

"I think your tractor cable is a little jammed," Anakin comments.

"I'll fix it once it stops working," the spacer says, dismissive, looking up. The hatch finishes rising, lifting them up to a rather small cargo space. Qui-Gon looks around curiously – but whatever crates are up there are sealed tight and chained to the floor for transport, very little there to give away what the crater might be hauling.

The ship’s – captain? – steps off the cargo hatch as it locks in place and then goes to kick at a nearby wall. "TR, wake up," he calls, and a panel slides open to reveal a droid. It's a black and purple one, humanoid and vaguely reminiscent to the battle droids from Naboo.

"What can I do for you today, sir?" the droid asks in feminine tones of utter disgust.

"These are Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker," the Captain says, motioning at them. "Don't kill them."

"Would _I_ ever do such a terrible, ghastly thing, sir?"

"Don't even," the captain says, pointing a finger at her and then glancing at them. "She's the ship's security. Please don't mess with her – she doesn't know how to play nice."

"Your security is a _droid_?" Anakin asks, half dubious and half excited.

"Alas, I am cheaper than paying someone's salary and food and room and board…" the droid says and sighs theatrically. "And sir is a cheap, cheap bastard."

"Sir is putting you to bed now," the Captain says flatly.

"Oh, _please_ do," the droid answers and the hatch closes sharply in front of her, hiding her from sight.

Qui-Gon folds his hands into his sleeves, looking warily at the ship's Captain. Droid security isn't… unusual but it does set bit of a precedent.

"Do you have other droids here?" Anakin asks.

"Yes – and you better not mess with them any more than with her, they're too busy working to play around," the spacer says and moves to the doors leading further into the ship. "Come on, I'll show you your cabins. And please, don't… touch anything."

The doors open and Qui-Gon pauses to stare.

Inside, the area glows _green_ with plant life. They crawl up the walls and up the ceiling, their leaves hanging overhead and their stems and vines curling around lattice of pipe work in the walls. It looks like a greenhouse.

Qui-Gon's mouth opens a hint, as a sudden suspicion rears its head – but the ginger man is already trundling along, his boots heavy on the metal crating below as he walks right into that long archway of vibrant greenery.

"Whoa," Anakin whispers and follows after, staring wide eyed at the plants. "What is this stuff?"

"Little bit of this, little bit of that," the young man says, waving a hand at the plants. "Nessius vines from Dantooine, Thra-eya, some Ayinchint, both are from Bandomeer, that one's Me-blene from – no don't touch it, over half of the galaxy is allergic to it!"

"You have _plants_ in your spaceship!" Anakin breathes even as he tucks his hands quickly back in, pressing them against his chest as Qui-Gon hurries after them.

"Of course I have plants in my spaceship," Obi-Wan Kenobi says and looks down at the boy. "I'm an Agriculturist – what did you expect, rocks? Now, don't touch anything – I need to check you both over for allergies. Can't have you swelling up and dying because you went and poked something you shouldn't have."

Anakin hesitates at that, glancing back at Qui-Gon who runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes briefly. Oh dear.

They're not going _to_ Kenobi – Kenobi had been diverted to them. And he is not very happy about it.

The young AgriCorps member – well, not really that young anymore, is he – stops and looks at them. "Well?" he asks. "Come on."

The greenery of the corridor is only the beginning. It seems as if the Agricultural Specialist has turned most of his space ship into a greenhouse. Every corridor is covered in plants of varying nature, not all of them even green – some are black, blue, purple, red, every colour imaginable. Green is the majority though, spilling over floors and curling around the numerous plant lights overhead.

It smells like a forest in the ship. That usual scent of metal and rust and engine fumes, it's completely absent. There is not even hint of oil in the air – all Qui-Gon can smell, and he dares to boast rather acute sense of smell… is the plants.

It also doesn't smell like filtered air – and why would it, when the ship is basically a greenhouse.

"Don't go there, there or there; they're my labs and I have some experiments going which I don't want you poking around with," Kenobi says as he shows them to their rooms. "That's technically the dining hall over there but it's not really suited for eating in anymore…"

The dining hall is _crammed_ full of high, skeletal shelves, each and every one of them chock full of plants growing out of long, low crates.

"Kitchen is over there – that's where we eat, I'll show you around in a bit," Kenobi says and then motions ahead. "Your cabins."

Qui-Gon clears his throat to ask but – he doesn't know quite what. In the end he simply steps forward to glance at the cabins offered to them – both are more or less identical, with a three level bunk bed in each – and a wall of plants.

"What's there is all edible, you can snack on it if you like, but… I'd rather you didn’t," Kenobi says, hovering about the doorways uneasily. "Especially not before I do allergy tests on both of you."

"You can fit three people in one of these cabins," Qui-Gon comments.

"Yes, but I got two guest cabins. Two cabins, two guests – might as well give you privacy," Kenobi shrugs and motions down the hall. "Fresher is over there – it's a sonic, though, and even that's under water restrictions, sorry about that. Cockpit is over there," he motions to the other way. "Left turn and straight up. My cabin is down the hall over there, and the rest are storage rooms and such. And that there is the cold locker, if you for any reason go in make sure to close the door afterwards – the systems here are delicate about the temperature."

Anakin is peering at the wall of plants in his cabin, staring wide eyed. "There's no dirt in these," he says, almost accuses, turning to Kenobi.

"Hydroponics, kid," Kenobi shrugs, combing his fingers idly through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

"What's that?" Anakin asks, frowning. "What does that mean?"

Kenobi looks at him and blinks, lowering his arm. " _Hydro_ meaning water, _ponics_ from _geoponics_ , which means agriculture. Therefore, _hydroponics_ ; the method of agriculture that uses only water and not soil," Kenobi says and shrugs again. "I also got some aeroponics here – those systems over there," he motions to couple of _pillars_ of greenery that stand in turn of the corridor. "Same thing but with added trickery of air. And all the stuff in the dining hall is aquaponics, that's trickier still. Do you want to see the kitchen now?"

Qui-Gon rubs at his forehead. He can't quite tell if Kenobi is trying to show off at them, or if he really is this bad with people in general. He has a headache coming on, anyway. "Yes, please," he sighs.

"Back we go, then," Kenobi says, spinning on his heels and marching off again. Anakin throws a look at Qui-Gon and then hurries after the young man, eager to see more.

"Does it use more water to do the plant stuff without dirt?" Anakin asks, quickly catching up with Kenobi.

"Generally less – with soil you tend to lose most of the water to evaporation," Kenobi answers. "In hydro, aero and aquaponics the only water you generally lose is the water that is actually used by the plants – if you do your stuff right, it’s a  more water-efficient way of farming. And sometimes you get fish."

"Fish?" Anakin asks, while Qui-Gon follows after them – and then he almost collides into the boy. Kenobi has slipped into what he assumes is the kitchen, and Anakin has stopped to stare in stunned amazement. Qui-Gon soon sees why.

The kitchen and the dining hall are separated by four enormous glass tubes that stand like a wall in between, with the only light in the kitchen coming through the tanks from the other side. Qui-Gon realises, somewhat distantly, that they look like repurposed bacta tanks – but that's secondary to what's inside them.

Swimming amidst of small mountains of coral and what look like artificial plastoid plants, there are dozens – perhaps hundreds – of colourful fish.

" _Fish_ ," Kenobi says, waving a hand at the tanks. "They're part of the aquaponics systems – hello there, MD-6," he says.

"Sir," a little round droid says, coming down from the ceiling where it had been doing something to the fish tanks. "I am cleaning the filters – do you need something?"

"I'm showing our new guests around – how is the build up?" Kenobi asks, and the little droid presents him with a sponge covered in faintly greenish gunk. "Not half bad," Kenobi muses. "Take samples of them before you wash them, will you? Back to work."

"Yes, sir," the monitor droid says, and then flitters back up, to continue his maintenance.

"You have _fish_ on your spaceship!" Anakin whispers, his face pressed close to one of the tanks, staring wide eyed at the display of colour within. "Space fish! This is _so_ wizard."

Kenobi scratches at his neck, looking at the boy and then glancing at Qui-Gon somewhat uneasily, while the Jedi Master pinches at the bridge of his nose. "Anakin… hasn't really seen fish before," he explains. He'd seen some on Naboo, maybe, but nothing like this. The fish of Naboo were hardy ocean fish due to the fact that just about all water on the planet was salt water. These are fresh water fish, and they look like they've been bred for aesthetics, too.

"I… see?" Kenobi answers, sounding a bit confused.

"How come you have fish?" Anakin asks, glancing back. "Are they just to look pretty or do you eat them or –?"

"They're part of the system over there," Kenobi says, motioning to the bottom of the tanks, where they can see some pipes, half hidden in the coral. "Water from the tanks feeds the plants, and the plants clean the water, it's returned back to the tanks up there, where MD-6 is switching the filters out," he motions up, where water is pouring back into the systems in small water falls. "The fish are in essence feeding the plants with their shit and such. That's aquaponics in a nutshell."

" _That's so wizard_ ," Anakin whispers. Then he leans back again. "You said _shit_."

"Well… shit," Kenobi answers and he looks a little amused. "Guess I shouldn't do that around you, huh?"

"I don't mind," Anakin grins and presses his face closer to the tanks again.

Qui-Gon sighs.

He'd, somewhat unkindly, expected the worst of Kenobi. Bitterness, accusations, perhaps cold shoulder at best. Kenobi definitely isn't happy about them, but he seems more put-off than really even annoyed. He probably wasn't any better prepared to have them on board than they were to get on board. But he doesn't feel outwardly hostile, at least, just a little awkward and maybe a bit tense.

What Qui-Gon hadn't expected is a wonderland of water and plants and _fish tanks_. And looking at Anakin now as he stares at the fish swimming peacefully about in the glass tanks, the light screening through the water flickering over his wonder filled face, Qui-Gon wonders wryly how he's going to ever be able to pry the boy _off_ them again.

"So, ah," Kenobi says and looks awkwardly around the kitchen – which, of course is also full of plants. He shrugs and shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. "This is about it, for the ship. Welcome on board the _Verdant_."

A very fitting name, that. "Thank you," Qui-Gon sighs and offers him a smile. "I'm sure it will be… highly educational," he says and then looks down at Anakin, who is very carefully tapping a single finger at the glass, where one of the fish is poking its head against it.

"Mm-hmm," Kenobi agrees, looking between him and Anakin. Then he shakes his head. "I should prep for a launch. Make yourself comfortable, I guess, and… don't touch anything," he says again. "Seriously, some of the stuff here is actually poisonous to humans."

"We'll be careful," Qui-Gon promises and with a tense nod, Kenobi turns and heads off, boots clanking heavily on the floor crating.

"This place is amazing," Anakin whispers, leaning back and peering up along the entire length of the tank. "So much water! Inside spaceship! Do you think he'd mind showing me around the systems, the… the ponics stuff?"

Qui-Gon sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Maybe if you ask nicely," he offers and looks around, at all the plants, the pipes and tubes that crisscross over the walls. Everywhere the ceiling is covered in a latticed network of metal wires – offering support to dozens of climbing wines. Kenobi, it seems, is trying his damnest to hide the walls entirely behind leaves.

Kenobi has done well for himself in the AgriCorps, Qui-Gon muses. His own ship turned into a greenhouse which he's obviously very comfortable in, perhaps even proud of… and he seems busily working too, and having the rank of Specialist at his age is no small thing.

Which begs the question – what, exactly, is the Jedi High Council trying to _teach_ him with this whole thing? To him it seems like he was right in sending the boy to the AgriCorps. Kenobi had certainly flourished there.

Still, Yoda had been all too sly for this to be so simple and Qui-Gon has a bad feeling he's going to find out sooner or later, what the Grand Master is plotting this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's on BLATANTLY obvious... I like all types of ponics and this is all shameless self-indulgence.


	3. Chapter 3

Anakin spends the whole launch watching the fish. He thinks he should probably pay more attention – Coruscant is still one of the most amazing places he's seen and he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it, all those high buildings, the hundreds and thousands of ships coming and going, all those people… he's never ever going to get used to it.

But there's the fish. In a tank – on a _spaceship_. There's colourful stuff in the tank, kind of like rock, which is sticking every which way, kind of looks like it's grown, and as the ship hums with the launch, the fish flitter in and out of countless hidey holes amidst the weird shaped rocks, and the face plants, darting forward and hiding again and darting forward and… and they never do it the exact same way twice. Every movement is a new, fluid dance, their scales shimmering in every colour he's ever seen – and lot he hasn't – and it keeps coming back to him.

It's water, they're swimming in water, the owner of the ship has _tanks_ full of crystal clear water… just for these fish.

Even the Hutts can't afford this much water just to keep stuff in it.

"Anakin, I'm going to pop out for a moment – I need to ask Kenobi where we're actually going," Qui-Gon says and Anakin draws his eyes away from the flicker of colour.

"I can wait here, Master Qui-Gon" Anakin offers quickly.

"Don't touch anything," Qui-Gon says, sighing and smiling and ruffling his hair as he passes him by and then Anakin is alone in the ship's kitchen.

It's bigger than their living room on Tatooine, back in the Quarter row. There are metal counters running down two walls, meeting at the corner – they're covered with not just kitchen appliances but other stuff too. Plants, obviously, but also machinery and what look like something Anakin had seen in passing in the clinic where they'd removed his slave chip. Medical stuff. The last wall – the one with the door in it – is completely covered in pipe work, with plants sticking out of every available opening from it.

Anakin stares at the wall of plants for a moment, how they just hang out of their pots and from the pipes, with small overhead lights aimed to them lighting up their leaves. The lights aimed at the plants are the only lights in the kitchen – the rest of the light is coming through the tanks.

It's a little like what Anakin thinks magic is like. In Tatooine everything is white or sand coloured and blindingly bright – here, in this kitchen, the light is mostly blue and flickering and – and _magical_

Turning his eyes back to the tanks, Anakin decides that this place, right now, right _this moment_ , _this very kitchen_ might be his favourite place in the universe. And never mind what happens next – whether Qui-Gon can take him as his apprentice or not… Anakin will have this in his memory to keep. This place.

Hugging himself a bit for warmth, Anakin sits down on his knees by the tanks and just… watches the fish swim around in the tank. The water is jostling inside a bit, as the ship shakes – they must be coming off the atmosphere now. The fish, though a bit agitated, don't seem too frightened, and the moment they settle into the usual level of standard gravity, they and the water settle down. Soon after, they're swimming around the column of colourful, weird rock that runs the length of the tank, while above more water pours in.

There's a column of bubbles rising from amidst the colourful rock and the fake plants in the tank. It's pretty.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon speaks behind him, who even knows how much later, and Anakin almost jumps out of his skin.

"Yeah, Master Qui-Gon?" Anakin asks, moving to get up.

Qui-Gon looks at him and for a moment he looks thoughtful – then he smiles and comes to crouch by him. He looks up at the tank. "In core worlds, it's common for people to keep fish as pets," the Jedi say. "They are very aesthetically pleasing, aren't they?"

Anakin looks at the tanks. "I guess," he says. "I mean, yeah they're pretty, but…" but it's more than that, isn't it? Has to be. This sort of thing, it's gotta be a bit about showing off – even if the fish are part of the plant systems, it's still… ridiculous, somehow. Ridiculous and overblown and amazing. How rich do you have to be, to have fish just for show?

Qui-Gon looks at him like he understands and sympathises – and doesn't know how to explain. He makes that face a lot when Anakin gets distracted by things that to him are normal – but which Anakin hasn't seen before and thus thinks are amazing, when they aren't actually.

Except there is no way this stuff is normal _anywhere_ , right?

Anakin clears his throat and forces himself to look away from the fish. "So, uh, where are we going?" he asks.

"We're heading to the headquarters of the Jedi Agricultural Service Corps," Qui-Gon says. "Kenobi is going to be dropping off some samples and giving reports and whatnot – and getting started on new assignments. Our duty is to keep up with him and not get in his way."

Anakin nods slowly. He still doesn't get why they're here at all – but now he minds it a lot less. If all weird Jedi distractions are this amazing, he probably won't ever mind any of them. "Okay. I'll try not to get in anyone's way."

"I'm sure you won't," Qui-Gon says and looks up at the tank.

Around them the ship jolts and there's that sensation of being _stretched_ that Anakin has figured always happens when a ship jumps into hyperspace. It lasts for a little longer than he's used to – on the Naboo Cruisers it was there and gone, here it sort of lags out… but eventually it passes and the ship settles.

The fish, he notes, don't even seem to notice.

"How long until we get to the Agricultural… place?" Anakin asks.

"On this ship? A day or so," Qui-Gon says. "We had better settle in and make ourselves comfortable. As much as we can without getting in the way, at any rate."

Anakin nods and sighs – guess that's his cue to leave the fish alone, he thinks with disappointment and stands up. "Master Qui-Gon, sir?" he asks, resting a hand against the tank – and then quickly jerking it back when he realises he's leaving a handprint on it. "How long are we going to be, uh, observing?"

"I don't know yet, Anakin. Hopefully not for longer than days, weeks at most," Qui-Gon says and runs a hand over his chin, thoughtful. "I'll see what I can do to make this as comfortable for you as possible in the mean while, but we had better get prepared for the long haul. Now, are you hungry?"

Anakin shakes his head – they'd eaten at the Jedi Temple. "I'm good, Master," he says. He kind of wants to stay and watch the fish a little longer, but this sounds like he can't. "Um, should I go to my cabin, or…?"

Qui-Gon hesitates and then straightens his back as they hear steps coming from the hallway outside.

"… through the 4th level allergens – should've gotten medical records before –" the messy haired guy mutters to what turns out to be another hovering droid that's following him. "Did you bring your medical records?" the man asks them when he reaches the doorway. "I need to know how well you're vaccinated."

Qui-Gon frowns. "Surely we're not about to come into contact with _diseases_ here?" he asks, sounding worried. "Allergens, perhaps, but –"

"I work on worlds with less than stellar infrastructure, usually little in way of water treatment and sometimes that includes no _sewer systems_ what so ever. With poor sewer management come diseases," the younger man says and looks between them. "If you don't have your vaccines in order, you're going to have to get vaccinated in the Greenhouse – or you're not coming with me anywhere."

Anakin frowns, looking between frowning Qui-Gon and the young guy and then lifts a hand. "Master Qui-Gon? What's vaccines?" he asks.

The younger man looks down at him, for a moment looking confused. "Are you kidding?" he asks slowly.

Anakin shakes his head, and looks at Qui-Gon hesitantly. Qui-Gon sighs and shakes his head. "Very well – Anakin is going to need… everything in that case. My vaccination should be up to date, galactic average – but it has been time since I've had the need to seek vaccinations for more exotic diseases."

The young guy looks between them, frowning a little. "Right, okay," he says then and shakes his head. "I need blood tests."

Qui-Gon looks like he's about to argue but then seems to decide against it. "Alright," he says and turns to Anakin. "Come along, Ani."

Anakin nods and follows Qui-Gon as he follows – Kenobi. So this guy is Obi-Wan Kenobi? Jedi really make him miss the Naboo – in Naboo people were all polite and everyone got announced by name so no one was confused about who anyone was, it was really handy. In the Jedi Temple, everyone just sort of… knows so no one is introduced. Apparently it's same here. Great.

They follow Kenobi from the kitchen, through the archway of plants that is the corridor and into one of the laboratories. There are racks of plants there too, but they don't dominate everything the same way they do in rest of the spaceship – here, the walls are covered by backlit shelves and coolers with hundreds, thousands of glass phials in uniform racks, and what looks like plastoid sacks of… sand maybe. Probably not though. There's also long tables full of machinery and stuff, and what looks like a sink.

As Anakin and Qui-Gon hesitate by the doorway, Kenobi goes to get a pair of plastoid gloves, snapping them on before getting out some equipment – more glass phials and an injector gun which, Anakin assumes, isn't actually for injecting stuff. While Anakin concentrates onto the threat of needles, Qui-Gon looks around, curious. "Seeds?" he asks, motioning at the sacks.

"Mmm," Kenobi answers, taking the injector gun and fitting a class phial on it. "Who wants to go first?" he asks, holding the injector gun up like, well, a gun.

Qui-Gon steps forward and pulls up his sleeves as Anakin watches. Kenobi uses a wad and some foul smelling stuff to wipe the skin clean, considers Qui-Gon's inner arm for a moment – and then snaps the gun against Qui-Gon's skin. There's a click and the phial he added in – which is really only big enough for couple of drops – fills with blood.

Qui-Gon steps back while Kenobi turns to remove the phial from the gun, handing it to the monitor droid hovering about him. "Start in on that," he says and then turns to thinker with the gun, disinfecting it before putting in a new phial and turning to Anakin.

Anakin hesitates, just for a moment, and then steps forward, holding out his arm. He very resolutely doesn't ask if it hurts while Kenobi wipes his arm clean and then places the injector on it.

It does hurt, a little – a sort of pinch and then it's over. Anakin quickly looks down to his arm – where the pinch had happened, there's a smear of green stuff. "Your thing is leaking?" Anakin says, worried – stuff in wounds, that's how you get infections.

"It applies bacta on injection point automatically," Kenobi says, taking the phial of Anakin's blood off the gun and standing up. "You can wipe it off in ten minutes."

"… oh," Anakin says, eyes widening and lifts his arm, tugging at his skin to stare the little green smear. Bacta – that's bacta? "That's _awesome_ ," Anakin murmurs.

"When will the tests be done?" Qui-Gon asks, coming to rest a hand on Anakin's back.

"MD-4?" Kenobi asks.

"Ten minutes, forty eight seconds," the droid says where it – he? – is putting the phial into some sort of high tech looking machine. "Per test. So, Twenty one minutes and twenty six seconds."

Kenobi considers the little phial of blood he's holding and then looks at Qui-Gon. "I can test this for other things," he then says slowly. "I have the equipment. Since the kid doesn't have _any_ vaccines, apparently."

Qui-Gon considers that, looking down at Anakin who tilts his head to look back. "I – would appreciate it, thank you," Qui-Gon then says.

"You're testing me for diseases?" Anakin asks, feeling a throb of that old terror at the thought of getting sick. Every time you got sick with something other than common kid's illness, there's a risk of it being either bad enough that it needed actual treatment, so bad for a Master to bother paying for treatment, or something survivable… that then lowered your monetary value.  "I'm healthy, Master Qui-Gon, sir, I _promise_."

"Never hurts to be sure," Qui-Gon smiles, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Kenobi looks between them, frowning, and then turns away, walking to the side table where the droid is waiting by the test machine. "Those tests will take bit longer. Come back in half an hour, I should have results for you then. And in the mean while –"

"We won't touch anything," Qui-Gon promises and gently tugs on Anakin's shoulder. "Come on, Ani – let's go see about our cabins."

* * *

 

Anakin peers around in his cabin thoughtfully. The room isn't that big, compared to the other rooms on the ship – one wall is completely taken by the three-level bunk bed, the other by the plant wall, and between the two there is only space for a small table, a chair, and the door. Barely enough space to turn around.

In the Naboo Cruiser, he hadn't had a cabin. Everything had been taken by the Queen's retinue and hand maidens and the soldiers – even Qui-Gon hadn't had a cabin there, there just hadn't been enough space. He and Qui-Gon had slept in one of the storage rooms, Qui-Gon on just a blanket and Anakin wrapped up in Qui-Gon's cloak. It had been nice, kinda.

Here he has three beds to choose from and wall of plants – so yeah, Anakin doesn't mind how cramped it is.

While Qui-Gon does whatever – probably meditates – in his cabin, Anakin peers at the wall of plants. They grow out of pipes here – there's in total six long, big pipes that run the length of the wall, with holes in them – the plants come out of the holes. Inside, the pipes are filled with weird, porous pebbles, and Anakin can hear the trickle of water inside. The pipes are on slight angle, tilted towards the room and away from the wall, so the plants sort of hang out of it, leaning towards him.

On the wall there are exactly fifty four plants – nine growing out of each pipe. Some of them are the same plant, but there's at least seven different types – ones with bigger leaves, with smaller leaves, one that grow out in long strands while another has grown into a huge bundle of leaves…

They smell _amazing_. The whole ship smells amazing, really, but here Anakin dares to stick his face closer to the plants – since these ones are apparently edible they're probably not poisonous. They smell like – like spices, a bit. There's another smell too, but that seems to be everywhere in the ship – a sort of wet smell, like water storage. But that makes sense, since there's water running through the walls everywhere.

How the ship hasn't rusted inside out with this much water running through everything, he'd like to know.

Anakin is in process of figuring out how the pipes work – the water is flowing constantly, coming in from one end of the bigger plant pipes and flowing out the other – when there's a knock on the open doorway. Kenobi, knocking on the wall between his and Qui-Gon's cabins.

"I'm finished with the tests," he says and holds out two data pads – one to Qui-Gon and another to Anakin. "You're fine. The kid is allergic to lots of seafood, shellfish mainly, but that's about it. He's going to need an immune booster too, looks like he's about to get a cold… but aside from that he's healthy."

"That's good news," Qui-Gon says, accepting his datapad and looking it over.

"Shellfish," Anakin repeats and takes the data pad. There's a long litany of words on the thing, for things he's never hear of before – and bunch of food stuff. After everything, there's a number – one to hundred judging by the looks of it. He… doesn't really get it. "So what does it mean, that I'm allergic to shellfish?"

"It means you can't eat it, maybe not even touch it, because it will give you a bad reaction," Qui-Gon says and reaches in to look. He flicks over the datapad until he gets to the point where the list mentions shellfish. "A rather bad one as well. Allergy is a hypersensitivity of the body – your immune system deeming something that in reality perfectly safe a danger to you. If you eat shellfish, your body will think it's been poisoned and act accordingly – which might be very dangerous to you."

Kenobi eyes them, frowning a little. "There shouldn't be any shellfish on the ship – I might have some in the freezer, I'll have one of the droids check it," he says. "So the kid should be fine."

"I have a name, you know," Anakin says with a little frown and looks at the test. "I don't even know what shellfish is and now I can't eat it," he mutters, not entirely sure what to do with that information. "Can I eat actual fish?" He thinks he ate some on Naboo – but he ate a lot in Naboo, so he's not sure.

"In moderation," Qui-Gon chuckles, ruffling his hair and handing the datapad he was holding back to Kenobi. "Thank you for this," he says with a nod, while Anakin holds out his as well.

Kenobi nods, accepting the datapads and scratching at his neck. "Right," he says. "Well… I got work to do," he says. "We'll be arriving at the Greenhouse tomorrow around noon, so, settle in I guess."

"Should we tend to our own meals, or…" Qui-Gon trails away.

"All the food stuff is in cold storage, mixed in with samples, so – don't, right now anyway," Kenobi says and tucks the datapads under his arm. "I'll make us something to eat in hour or two – or are you hungry now?"

"No, we ate at the Temple – I was merely wondering," Qui-Gon says and bows his head a little. "We can wait couple of hours."

"Good," Kenobi says and after a moment of hesitation turns on his heel. "Excuse me," he says and then stomps off again, rattling the metal grating under his boots.

Definitely not like Jedi, Anakin thinks. The Jedi all walk silently – Kenobi makes _so much noise_.

"I'm not sure that guy likes us much, Master Qui-Gon" Anakin says.

"I'm not sure he's used to having people on board his ship," Qui-Gon says and sighs, looking after Kenobi. "Try not to take it personally, Ani. He doesn't even know you – if he doesn't like you, that's on him, not you. You have done nothing wrong."

Anakin nods slowly, looking after Kenobi and frowning before looking up at Qui-Gon. "He seems smart though," he says. Laboratories and plants and blood tests – that took smarts. And Kenobi keeps fish. It's all really rich stuff, at least by Tatooine's standards, but it's all also _well kept_ , well maintained. So Kenobi knows his stuff.

"Yes," Qui-Gon agrees quietly. "He was as a young boy too, top of his class. The rank he now has, Agricultural Specialist, it's roughly equivalent to a Knight, I suppose – it means he's not only specialised in certain field of study, but been tested and proved to be good at it."

Anakin nods slowly, watching Qui-Gon. "So," he says slowly. "Why didn't he become a Jedi Knight?" The guy seems to have the smarts for it anyway. And he has the Force too, doesn't he?

Qui-Gon says nothing for a moment, looking at him and then turning to look at the corridor. It's dotted by lights all over, all of them aimed at the plants all around – and still it seems like they're in shade, somehow. But then, after Tatooine, every place seems like it's in shade. Nothing compares to the light of two suns.

"Because I didn't want to train him," Qui-Gon says finally.

Anakin nods slowly at that. "Because he's… rude?" he asks slowly.

Qui-Gon sighs and shakes his head, closing his eyes. "No, he like all Jedi initiates his age was well mannered. No, there were other reasons," he admits. "Complicated reasons."

Meaning, Anakin is either too young or too much of a backwater slave to understand and it's not really any of his business. "Okay, Master Qui-Gon," Anakin says, and looks down. Guess it really isn't his business, anyway. "Well, I like his ship anyway. So there's that."

Qui-Gon chuckles a little at that and looks at him. "It is a very interesting ship, isn't it," he muses, and looks around. "Shall we have a _careful_ look around?" he asks then, a bit conspiratorially. "Now that we're known to be free of deadly allergies, I'm sure Kenobi won't mind if we peek in on the dining hall, at least."

Dining hall would have the fish tanks too, since he'd been able to see the dining hall through them from the kitchen. "Yeah," Anakin says, excited. "Let's go!"

Chuckling, Qui-Gon motions him to go ahead and quickly Anakin hurries forward, Qui-Gon following behind him. Whatever would happen and even if Kenobi didn't like him or want to show him the hydroponics and stuff… at least Anakin got to have a look at his ship.

One day, he thinks, he'll have a ship just like this one. One day.


	4. Chapter 4

Obi-Wan leans back, scrubbing a hand over his face. His mission analysis is about done now. The mission in Fetlon-La hadn't been overly complicated and he'd already submitted his reports, results and the preliminary check up schedule to keep up on the process of the local restoration efforts – he's more or less done with the whole thing. There's no real reason to do an analysis on top of everything else – he's not an Adept anymore, he has little to prove left. If he says the situation is typical, these are the causes, this is what I recommend… it's enough.

But it gives him something to distract himself with. Specialist, and he's still inventing work for himself to have an excuse out of annoying situations. Guess some things you just never grow out of.

"Sir?" MD-4 asks, swinging into his view. "It's four in Galactic Standard Time."

Time to start preparing dinner, Obi-Wan thinks, and pushes away from the lab table, pushing the datapad away. He should clean up, he thinks, looking over the messy tables and counter. And he's still in middle of sorting out the samples from Fetlon-La – not that there had been that many, the issue hadn't been environmental after all. He should still look them over, sort them out, mark them accordingly – some young Adept out there might have to do a thesis on the thing…

Excuses, Obi-Wan thinks, and stands up. If he concentrates he can feel them – Qui-Gon Jinn and the boy, Anakin Skywalker. Humans feel so… tight in comparison to plants, their Force Signature all bundled up, drawn inward, pulling more than pushing. Knots in the Force, Embracca had once called them. They take the Force around them and sort of bunch it up – forming little gravity wells where Force is drawn towards them… and thus away from the plants around them.

Obi-Wan really doesn't like having non-AgriCorps members on board the ship. They mess up the balance of Force on board his ship, every time. Well, at least these ones aren't about to keel over in acute allergic reactions… hopefully.

He should probably do something about the non-human friendly plants though.

"MD-4 – get the marking flags, will you, the red ones?" Obi-Wan says. "Mark everything that's toxic to baseline humans, will you?"

"Mark, sir?" MD-4 asks, swinging side to side in air.

"Just stick a flag on every plant that's not human-safe," Obi-Wan says with a wave of his hand. "Let's try and keep our guests alive, however long they're staying."

The droid beeps in somewhat harassed affirmative and then flies off to find the flags while Obi-Wan heads for the cooler. Cooking for three people – and man of Qui-Gon's side would eat a lot…

Obi-Wan bows his head a little. Qui-Gon likes tea, doesn't he? Well, all Jedi do – Obi-Wan certainly drinks his share. Maybe he should get some of the better blends out for the man. He's been a bit brusque to him, he thinks. But then, he has every right, doesn't he?

Does he?

Obi-Wan frowns and then turns the handle of the cold storage door, stepping into the cooler. Light turns on as he does, lighting the racks upon racks of harvested produce – and the dozens of small crates of various cold samples. Like he'd though, some of it is shellfish – the samples from Qennek-2, but those weren't exactly for eating. Still, Obi-Wan puts them farther back on the shelf, just in case – he'll be dropping them off for analysis at the Greenhouse soon, but still…

Now what to make for his… _guests_? He doesn't really feel like doing anything too complicated. Bean soup maybe, he has still a couple jars of them left, they'd go well with some celery, peppers, a bit of onion… he had a recent harvest of sprouts, he could roast some up with oil and salt… yeah, that could work.

Obi-Wan grabs an empty half-crate and loads it up with everything he needs before shouldering his way out of the cold storage – and almost colliding with Qui-Gon who is now standing in the corridor outside. "Sorry," Obi-Wan says and quickly lifts the crate up, resting the weight on top of his shoulder while closing the colder door with his free hand. "Do you need something?"

Qui-Gon looks at him and it's – weird. It's just weird, it doesn't even hurt, it's just damn _odd_ to have him there, like he's stepped right out of Obi-Wan's dreams and memories, except… not. He's older now, his hair going from the brown of Obi-Wan's memories into grey… and Obi-Wan had completely forgotten the lines of his face, how many of them seem to be laugh lines.

Qui-Gon Jinn had always been so firm, so strong – so severe – in his memories.

The Jedi Master clears his throat and he looks awkward. "Do you need help?" he asks.

Twelve years too late for that, old man, Obi-Wan thinks somewhat uncharitably and shakes his head. "I got it," he says and asks again, "Is there something you need?"

So much for trying to be more polite.

Qui-Gon looks at him regretfully. "I had hoped we could talk," he says. "Alone."

Great, Obi-Wan thinks. Well, it had been coming and it had been sort of what he'd been after himself – talking stuff over and finally coming to terms with it. Talking alone with Qui-Gon, that was inevitable. He'd just hoped he'd have a little more time to mentally prepare himself for that.

"Yeah, sure," Obi-Wan says and turns to the kitchen. "We can talk while I cook."

Qui-Gon says nothing, following him in. The kid isn't there, Obi-Wan finds to his surprise, and wonders if Qui-Gon had sent Anakin to his cabin to get him out of the way. Maybe, probably – he seems very protective of the boy.

Lucky kid, Obi-Wan thinks and hauls the crate of vegetables and beans to the nearest open kitchen counter, looking it over. Better start on the soup first, he muses, and then gets the cutting board.

Qui-Gon feels like a shadow behind him, where he hovers about and finally sits by the kitchen table, to watch. "I understand we may have issues," the man starts.

"Hm," Obi-Wan agrees, grabbing a knife from the rack and then starting to work on dicing everything up.

"And it might take while to sort through those issues," Qui-Gon continues. "But in the mean while, I would appreciate if you did not give Anakin hard time. My failings are no fault of his."

Obi-Wan pauses in act of removing the seeds off the peppers, leaning back to look at the man. "You really think I'd do that?" he asks flatly.

"I hope not," Qui-Gon says calmly. "But he is my responsibility and as such I need to look after his wellbeing. Mentally as well as physically."

Obi-Wan's fingers clench around the knife. So that's what Masters do for their Padawans, is it – look after their wellbeing? How damn nice, he thinks, and looks away, taking a calming breath. _Beneath you, sapling, this is beneath you_ , he thinks. "I wouldn't," he says then and concentrates onto the vegetables, setting the seeds aside. "I'm a little curious though. It's obvious that kid comes from outside the Order."

A Jedi Initiate that didn't know what allergies are, what vaccinations are… plus, the kid’s clothes are telling. Everything sand coloured, hand made – not just the way Jedi clothes are, made to look homespun but actually spun and sewed by hand… and his boots are dirty. Definitely no Temple grown brat, that one.

"He isn't from the Order, no," Qui-Gon says. "I found him on an Outer Rim planet, observed him to be unusually strong in the Force. To leave him untrained would've been borderline criminal, so I brought him to the Temple."

Where, after good decade of apparently not accepting students, it lifted more than a few eyebrows, Obi-Wan guesses, and starts chopping the peppers, not saying anything. Well, Qui-Gon is right about one thing anyway; none of that is the kid's fault. Qui-Gon Jinn, it seems, will always do as Qui-Gon Jinn deems best.

"He doesn't have much experience from outside his home world, and his living situation was… difficult," the Jedi Master continues. "I appreciate the care you showed in testing for allergies, and the matter of vaccinations. I… admit I hadn't even considered it a risk."

That much had been fairly obvious, Obi-Wan muses, and throws the chopped peppers into the awaiting pot. "I guess in Core worlds and in Coruscant it wouldn't be necessary," he muses. "How long has that kid been with you?" Anakin doesn't have a Padawan's cut yet, and he's not wearing even initiate tunics. That's pretty telling.

"Only a week or so," Qui-Gon admits. "And it's been a rather hectic week – this is the most quiet we've had in that time."

Obi-Wan isn't sure what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything, blatantly refusing to think what might constitute as _hectic_ for a Jedi Master. He doesn't really care, he tells himself.

There's a moment of silence, during which Obi-Wan chops up the celery and onions and whatnot and grabs a handful of herbs off the wall, snipping them off the plants wherever the leaves are looking a little older. Bit of this and that all goes into the pot – and on top of it all, he empties out two jars of beans. It's not exactly high class cantina level cuisine – but it gotta beat Temple meals. He still recalls them being mostly over ripe fruits and green mush – healthy and utterly unappetising.

"I understand that us being here must be uneasy for you," Qui-Gon says, after a while. "I will do my utmost to make our stay here as unobtrusive as it can be. Hopefully it won't be for long."

"Hopefully," Obi-Wan repeats and glances over his shoulder at the man. Qui-Gon is leaning onto the small kitchen table, his face troubled. "You have no idea how long you're supposed to stay with me, do you?"

"Do you?" Qui-Gon asks, looking up.

"I don't even know _why_ you are here now in the first place," Obi-Wan admits, and tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "The members of the Jedi High Council said something about you learning a lesson – and I have to admit, I'm not exactly thrilled with being–" he stops and draws a breath. "I'm sure their wisdom is beyond my understanding," he mutters. He's just a lowly Service Corps member, what does he know about the mysteries of Jedi Masters?

Qui-Gon's stare on him feels heavy and hard. "I'm sorry," Qui-Gon says then. "I have to admit, I don't… understand it any better than you do. All it seems to be is an inconvenience to you."

Obi-Wan lets out a breath at that. Yeah, sure, he thinks, and pushes the pot onto the stove a little harder than is strictly-speaking necessary. Then he reaches for the sprouts, to begin oiling and salting them for the oven.

"Maybe, while we're here, we may be some use to you," Qui-Gon then offers carefully and then tries for more cheerful tone. "If nothing else, I can do some heavy lifting."

Obi-Wan's first instinct is to snap that he can do his own damn lifting, he's not a weak thirteen year old anymore… but the words aren't offered as an off-hand boast. There is no ill intent there, the man doesn't feel anything more than calm and faintly hopeful. Mostly he feels awkward. Qui-Gon is probably just trying, in his own way, to be helpful. He probably doesn't want to be there any more than Obi-Wan wants him there, but he is and so he's going to try and make most of it.

"Yeah, maybe," Obi-Wan says and sighs, looking at the man over his shoulder. So many dreams, so many nightmares, so many lost hopes rode on the man's shoulders – Obi-Wan is almost dismayed to find them wide enough to carry it all. Somehow, even while failing up to live to all his imagination… the man still manages to somehow surpass them.

He isn't the cruel figure of aloof authority Obi-Wan had nightmares of, and he isn't the pinnacle of Jedi perfection he'd dreamed of. He's just a man, who happens to also be a Jedi Master, and nothing all that much greater or lesser than that. Just another human being, and that's all.

"I guess we'll see what becomes of this," Obi-Wan says and turns his attention back to the sprouts. He takes a breath and then reaches out for a baking tray. "You can start by setting the table," he says then, and nods to a cupboard. "Everything's over there."

Qui-Gon stands up and goes to fetch the plates. The clatter of dishes and utensils for a moment is the only sound between them, as Obi-Wan finishes setting up the sprouts and heats up the oven, pushing the tray in before turning to check the soup. It looks good enough, he thinks, and stirs it idly, leaning his hip into the edge of the table.

Well, if nothing else, it's the whole thing is giving him an excuse to cook – alone, he's much more likely just pick his way through the ship and end up eating whatever caught his eye. Cooking just for yourself was just too much of a bother.

"Should I go get Anakin?" Qui-Gon asks.

"This will take a bit longer," Obi-Wan says and then glances back. "He comes from a desert planet, doesn't he?"

"Is that a problem?" Qui-Gon asks.

"Just wondering about the preoccupation with fish," Obi-Wan says. He knows an AgriCorps member who came from a desert world – and there wasn't a dish Obi-Wan didn't manage to woefully under-spice whenever she came around.

"Water is very precious where he comes from," Qui-Gon admits. "I think you'll have to endure his preoccupation for a while."

Obi-Wan nods and after a moment of thought gets out a case of dry spices, setting it aside to lift to the table – just in case. "I don't mind," he murmurs.

That was, actually… one of the few things he doesn't really mind about this. Something about the kid turns his stomach a little, doing little summersaults of unease and confusion and suspicion – but that bit of wonder, the wide eyes… even if it's awe spawned from sheer ignorance, he hadn't expected it.

It was nice, even. Not quite enough to make up for all the other crap, but… silver lining on the storm cloud, at any rate.

Qui-Gon goes to fetch the boy while Obi-Wan tends to the soup, testing it with a spoon before grabbing few more leaves of thyme off the wall and adding them in as well before leaving it to simmer. He then checks the dry goods pantry – no bread left, no surprise there, but he does have some crackers, those would do with the soup. Soy milk would have to do for drink, if water wasn't good enough.

He's is just setting the bottle down onto the table when Qui-Gon returns with Anakin, ushering the boy in. Anakin doesn't quite hesitate, glancing at Obi-Wan and then at the fish tanks and then stepping forward.

"I hope you're not expecting meat – I rarely have any," Obi-Wan admits.

"You're a vegetarian?" Qui-Gon asks.

"By habit more than anything – I get everything I need off the ship. Meat just isn't one of those things," Obi-Wan says and shrugs. "I have some fish in freezer, though, for eating."

Anakin looks at him and then back to the aquaponics tanks. "So, you don't eat those fish?" the boy then asks, motions to them.

Definitely not used to Core worlds, this kid. "Nah," Obi-Wan says and goes to check on the roasting sprouts – not quite ready yet. "My fish are too small to make good eating, really. They've been bred to look fancy, not to be healthy eating."

"Huh," Anakin says and takes a seat by the table. He's eying the tanks. "I guess it would be shame to eat something to pretty. Do you know how many fish there are in there?"

"In the tanks?" Obi-Wan asks and considers them. "About fifty fish in each, I think – MD-6 would know the exact number, he helps me manage the aquaponics."

Anakin narrows his eyes at the tanks, his eyes flickering between the fish – he's trying to count them, Obi-Wan realises and tilts his head a little, watching the concentration be chased off by frustration.

"You have many droids here," Qui-Gon comments.

"Seven in total, counting TR-34," Obi-Wan agrees and turns back to the food. "Rest are all monitor droids. They keep track of everything for me, so I can do more important things."

"I imagine you do a lot of research," Qui-Gon says, thoughtful.

Obi-Wan hesitates, glancing at the man. He's prodding the conversation along oh so carefully – but does he really care? Probably not, Obi-Wan muses and turns back to the food, lifting few beans with the ladle to check how they're coming along. "Some," he answers finally. "There are a lot of ongoing experiments I do. Agriculture isn't exactly super fast paced."

"All the plants here for experiments?" Anakin asks curiously, leaning forward. "How many plants do you have in here?"

"Oh I don't know – little under ten thousand maybe?" Obi-Wan muses, scratching at his chin.

"Ten _thousand_?"

"The racks there alone hold few thousand plants," Obi-Wan agrees, motioning to the fining hall. "I haven't exactly bothered to keep count how many there are all around the ship – bit over seven thousand the last we counted. But to answer the question – some are running experiments, some are from old experiments, lot are just…" he waves a hand. "Just curiosity. And food and speaking of which…"

With a after last check on the pot, Obi-Wan takes it off the stove, glancing to the side and reaching with the Force to grab a coaster to put it on. It flies through the air and to the table, where it slides in place just as Obi-Wan sets the pot down.

Anakin stares at the pot – or rather, the coaster under it – while Qui-Gon frowns a little. "Tuck in, I'll get the sprouts," Obi-Wan says, grabbing an oven mitt with the Force and sliding it onto his hand, before going to get the tray off the oven.

"That's _wizard_ ," Anakin murmurs.

"It's just bean soup," Obi-Wan mutters. What does that even mean, _wizard_? Who says that? Shaking his head, pulls the baking tray out, checking the sprouts over. Eh, good enough, he decides and transfers the sprouts onto a plate before carrying it to the table.

Qui-Gon is watching him oddly. He hasn't even touched the pot, it looks. "I didn't go through the trouble of checking your allergies to poison you now," Obi-Wan says, a bit uneasy.

"I'm sure the soup is fine," Qui-Gon says slowly, while Anakin stares at him, wide eyed.

" _What_?" Obi-Wan asks, confused.

" _Wizard_ ," the boy says, and grins. "So what is this stuff," he asks, craning his neck to see the plate Obi-Wan's holding. "Did they come off the ship?"

"Yes, more or less," Obi-Wan says and sighs, leaning back to get the spice rack. He doesn't get these people at all. "The beans are bit older, but most everything else is more or less fresh, or recently refrigerated."

"It must be handy, to be so self sufficient," Qui-Gon comments, shaking his head and considering the soup before reaching for the ladle.

"Saves me shopping trips – and I can pretty much always eat fresh food," Obi-Wan says and sits down. Also saved him from slow starvation when he got send into worlds with next to no food to speak of – but that's not polite dinner conversation, is it. "It definitely beats survival rations."

"I bet," Anakin murmurs, and looks on curiously as Qui-Gon ladles the soup for himself - and then grins brightly when the Jedi Master takes the boy's plate, and serves him a portion as well.

Leaning his chin onto his palm, Obi-Wan looks looking between his two guests. It's a small bit of interaction, but a telling one. In traditional Master-Padawan pairs, it's the Padawan who serves the food. That much Obi-Wan still remembers about the propriety lessons – he'd been so proud of himself when he'd aced that class. He'd learned all the steps, all the moves, can still recite them by heart. Hell, he could probably still do a tea ceremony fit for a goddamn queen if he had to. That's what's expected of Padawans – perfect etiquette and modesty. Their behaviour reflected on their Masters, after all.

Qui-Gon doesn't seem to expect it at all from Anakin, though, that Padawan's customary, squire-like servitude. Maybe it's the kid's status as outsider to the Jedi Order – Anakin wouldn't know those lessons probably, but there's _something_ about it… something that marks it as special, between them.

Obi-Wan drums his lips with his fingers and then looks away, at the fish tank. Desert world, no vaccinations, no understanding over allergies, homespun clothes… plus, the toxicology he got back from Anakin's blood tests. Among other things, like natural antibodies illnesses that have relatively cheap cures and heaping of radiation damage, the kids blood work showed signs of both having been exposed to a lot of not so healthy fumes… and _stims_ , which might mean any number of things, none of them all that good. No infant immunisations either…

"Here," Qui-Gon says and holds out the ladle for him and Obi-Wan accepts it with a hum, glancing at the pot. Looks like he'd made enough good – good. Obi-Wan goes to fill his own bowl, his thoughts racing.

Well… that might explain why the Jedi High Council was being so damn weird – and why they didn't just send the kid packing, if they didn't want him in the Order, Force sensitivity be damned. It doesn't explain why they'd sent them to Obi-Wan's ship of all places – it still feels like he's being punished, or at least used, for things that had nothing to of with him, but… it's an inkling of an explanation.

"So what is this stuff?" Anakin asks, spooning at his soup and peering at it curiously.

Obi-Wan straightens his back a little. "Well, there's beans there – the red stuff is from a bell pepper…"

Anakin listens attentively as he lists all the ingredients of the soup while Qui-Gon watches them with thoughtful look about his face, but doesn't seem in hurry to interject, letting Obi-Wan talk. He seems better at ease, now. Obi-Wan glances at him while explaining what a bell pepper is to Anakin – privately wondering at the man.

It's still unspeakably weird to have them there – well, Anakin he can give or take, his origins aside the kid doesn't seem any different from any other kid he's known. But Qui-Gon… Qui-Gon is somewhat more troubling. Especially with _this_.

Qui-Gon had taken a slave child to the Jedi Temple, tried to claim him for his student. That's one hell of a kick at the anthill, right there. So had it been refused because Anakin was a slave or because Qui-Gon had a reputation at this point?

And what the hell is Obi-Wan supposed to do with them now?


	5. Chapter 5

Qui-Gon wakes up feeling more rested than he honestly expected, slowly coming to as the light does. They seem to run on timers, the plant lights, and turning his head to the side he can see through the open doorway how the lights are slowly coming on in the corridor as well, one by one lighting up the veritable forest outside.

It had been surprisingly soothing to sleep in the quiet sound of bubbling water. When he'd closed his eyes it had almost felt like napping in the room of a thousand fountains, with the smell and feel of plants all around, and the sound of a slow, steady trickle of water. Definitely far more calming than he'd honestly expected, given the situation.

Hopefully Anakin hadn't had trouble sleeping – the boy would be far less used to the constant sound of water. He hadn't seemed distressed and had assured Qui-Gon he was just fine – even excited – to have a cabin just to himself.

Closing his eyes again, Qui-Gon feels at the other cabin, gently reaching for Anakin in the Force. The boy is still fast asleep, his rest dreamless and deep. Good, the Jedi Master thinks, and then rises from the bed to do his morning meditation.

By the time he steps out of his cabin to seek the fresher and perhaps, if his luck is on his side, some tea to start the day, the whole spaceship is lit. There is a droid going about its business up in the ceiling line, checking over the plants there and taking samples off them in a steady, adjusted rhythm, plant by plant. Qui-Gon watches it go about its business curiously but doesn't disturb it – chances are the sample taking is important part of the ship's routine, better not disturb it.

The fresher is empty but in the sonic shower there has some hint of moisture glistening in the glass separating it from the rest of the fresher, so he's not the first up, it seems. Qui-Gon goes through his morning ablutions quickly, combing his fingers through his hair and binding it back before setting out for the kitchen instead.

He is indeed not the first up, and despite having been prepared for it Qui-Gon finds himself stopping in surprise, to stare.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is standing by the tanks, his back to the door – dressed in only a pair of tight fitting slacks and nothing else, with his hair done up in a messy bun and his beard still wet, fresh of the shower. He's doing something with the tank controls idly – there's a monitor screen on the wall – and in his hand he has a cup of what looks like tea.

Of course it only makes sense – this ship is Kenobi's home, after all, and people tend to be casual about their living spaces. Still it's… stunning, somehow, to see the man standing there, bare-footed, with tan lines on his neck and arms, bared all the way down to waist.

Kenobi is not, Qui-Gon realises quietly, somewhat uneasily, an unhandsome man.

"There's tea in the pot if you want," Kenobi says without turning to look, tapping something into the screen instead.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon says, smothering the urge to clear his throat awkwardly and goes to get himself a cup. "Do you grow tea here?"

"I used to, but I couldn't get the taste right," Kenobi admits and the controls he'd been tinkering with make a beep. "It always ended up too mild for my tastes."

"Ah," Qui-Gon says, not sure what to say to that, so he concentrates pouring the tea. It's cassius, it turns out – next to that, anything would taste mild, he muses as he takes seat by the kitchen table.

"I guess I should get started on breakfast," Kenobi muses and turns away from the tanks, scratching at his scalp.

"I can do that, if you show me where to get foodstuff," Qui-Gon offers, glancing at him and then looking down at his tea cup. "You must have a lot of work."

"Nothing really pressing, right now," Kenobi says and walks over to the counter, to refill his cup. "But I might as well show you the cooler and what not to touch there – some of the stuff in there are samples I'm taking back for more in-depth analysis."

"You keep your samples and your food stuff in same cooler?" Qui-Gon asks, arching his eyebrows.

"I know to keep them separate," Kenobi says flatly, giving him a look and then walking over to the table. Even barefooted, he makes noise as he walks, his heels thumping against the metal floor heavily. He sits down and looks at Qui-Gon. "If you want to buy me another cold storage, be my guest – the damn things are expensive."

"I – I'm sorry, I didn't meant to criticise," Qui-Gon offers, smothering the urge to sigh.

The last day had gone… not terribly, so he'd rather hoped they might've found some sort of stability between them, or at least achieved a level of polite cordiality. But perhaps it's not that simple, after all.

"Tch," Kenobi says and takes a drink of his tea, looking away, at the tanks. Qui-Gon looks the same way, watching the fish idly swim around the column of coral growing in the tanks, flickering about the plastoid plants.

"Why the fake plants?" Qui-Gon asks, hoping for a topic of conversation that doesn't leave him with his foot in his mouth. "In the tanks, I mean? If the water is good enough to feed plants outside the tank, then surely it should be good enough for underwater plants as well."

"The point is to get the nutrients out, not to waste them on plants inside." Kenobi says and then makes a face, running a hand over his beard, smoothing it down momentarily. "When I started in on aquaponics, I was trying to do an in-depth study on how to balance the system properly and in most aquaponics setups, people don't exactly keep their fish in aquariums – they're kept just in tanks or pools, not so much as rock to decorate them. So adding in underwater plants into my system would've imbalanced the study."

"I see," Qui-Gon says, thoughtful. "So set up like yours is not typical?"

"For a semi serious hobbyist, maybe," Kenobi shrugs and drinks his tea. "For a proper aquaponics farm that's supposed to feed thousands and thousands of people, they don't exactly worry about aesthetics – what people want is crop efficiency and as little maintenance as possible. The base structure is the same, really – but I waste lot of good space with the coral, and my fish aren't exactly typical aquaponics stock either."

Qui-Gon nods slowly. He has seen hydroponics and aquaponics farms – in Coruscant alone there are thousands of such farms and the Jedi Temple has a hydroponics garden. He's never really thought about what sort of upkeep they may have. "So, you specialise in hydroponics and aquaponics?" he asks curiously.

Kenobi looks at him, thoughtful. "No," he says then. "I specialise in regenerative agriculture and disaster restoration. Mainly on collapse of agricultural infrastructure."

"I… see," Qui-Gon says, rather helpless. "I don't know what that means, precisely," he admits then.

Kenobi snorts. "When an existing agricultural system collapses, they send me to figure out why," he clarifies. "When a planet has a natural disaster and they're about to starve, they send me to help them set up emergency food production. Sometimes I also help starting colonies and set up farms. That sort of thing. Agricultural emergency relief."

Qui-Gon nods slowly. "I thought that was the purpose of AgriCorps as whole," he says thoughtfully.

"Yes and no," Kenobi says and shrugs. "AgriCorps do a lot of things. This sort of stuff is just the most public part of it – the part people know of."

Qui-Gon sips his tea, looking at him curiously. Well it explains the ship, more or less – working on such arduous tasks, Kenobi probably needs to haul in a lot of cargo to his mission locations. Also, bringing his own food production to potentially famine-stricken planets must be a great help too.

"Do you mind if I ask about what sort of missions have you had?" Qui-Gon asks.

Kenobi looks at him, frowning a little and then looks away. "Recently I was on a world called Fetlon-La – recent addition to the Republic," he says. "There was some hassle with colonisation and such before the locals got their independence. Formerly pre-industrial society, they were taught farming just a hundred or so years ago, and not terribly well. They had a huge population boom and turned the planet into a dustbowl inside fifty years."

"Dustbowl?" Qui-Gon asks, frowning.

"It's when you farm the top soil to death, essentially," Kenobi says, waving a hand. "Massive deforestation, too many mono crops, no rotation, no proper irrigation, no wind breaks, so on and so on, the soil turns dry and dusty. Enough of it and it messes up weather, which it did. Less rains, more wind, lot of dusty, dry earth… Fetlon-La is on brink of becoming a desert world, now, thanks to the fact that they farmed it to ruin."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows arch at that. "That's… something that can happen in such a short time?"

"You put enough effort to farming something just the right amount of _wrong_ and you kill decent sized planet inside a century, yeah," Kenobi says and arches his eyebrows. "Why do you think we have so many liveable desert planets with viable atmospheres? On their own desert worlds can't produce atmosphere – you need to have had plants for that, a lot of plants. The desertification comes after."

"Hmm," Qui-Gon answers, leaning back. He thinks he might've read about it once, for a mission perhaps. To think agriculture can have such an impact on a word – but then, with enough people and enough work, you can transform a world in a million ways, it only makes sense that agriculture itself can be a cause of disaster as well. "That is very interesting," he muses.

"Guess you could call that," Kenobi says, giving him a look and then draining his tea cup. "I'm getting hungry. Stir-fry sounds good to you?"

"I have no preference, really, anything you feel like making is fine," Qui-Gon says and drains his cup as well. "Please, allow me to help."

Kenobi sighs and sits up, stretching. "Fine. Let me get a shirt first," he says.

Qui-Gon glances at him, down at his lightly downy chest and flat stomach and then away before he can trace the trail of hair down to the waistline of the younger man's trousers. "Certainly," he says and clears his throat. "I can wait."

* * *

 

They arrive at the headquarters of the Jedi Service Corps Agricultural branch a little after noon. Qui-Gon had known in the vaguest terms of _knowing_ that the AgriCorp HQ was a space station, but he hadn't expect it to be quite like it was.

Shaped a little like a spindle, the station is marked by a rings of what looks like one continuous greenhouses that wraps around the entire station. While Qui-Gon and Anakin watch in amazement, Kenobi steers them in with adjusted hand, hitting the comms as soon as they get within range.

"Tower control, this is Specialist Obi-Wan Kenobi, on board the _Verdant_ , requesting landing in a hangar, preferably on or near dock 5, over," he speaks to the comms and waits until he gets a response.

"Specialist Kenobi, please send in your landing details and cargo manifest, over," a female voice requests through the comms.

"Sending info in, now, over," Kenobi answers and waits.

"Very good, Specialist Kenobi. You may land in the dock five, pad number 12. We'll send some people in to help you unload your cargo. Welcome back to the Greenhouse – tower control over and out."

Kenobi sets the comms down and then grabs the steering instead and takes them in.

"That thing is huge," Anakin murmurs. "You live here?"

"I used to, now I'm away more than I'm in," Kenobi admits. "If AgriCorps have a home, though, the Greenhouse is it."

The station is… massive, the closer they get. Easily a kilometre in length, it must be easily big enough to support tens of thousands of people. Though Qui-Gon had known about the place, he hadn't really expected it to be so big. It's nothing compared to the Jedi Temple in Coruscant, of course, but it is still… very big.

"What happens when we get on board the station?" Qui-Gon asks.

"I'll unload my cargo, send the samples I'm carrying off to wherever they need to go, that'll take couple of hours," Kenobi answers. "You can do whatever you want in the meanwhile – the Greenhouse isn't exactly a tourist location, but there's still stuff to see if you want to have a look around, there's even a commercial level."

"Should we seek accommodations on board the station?" Qui-Gon asks, frowning a little, wondering if Kenobi has rooms on the station, in way a Jedi Knight would have rooms in the Temple.

"The _Verdant_ isn't going anywhere," Kenobi shrugs. "I always find it easier to just stay on board the ship, even while I'm on the station. Saves me the hassle."

Qui-Gon nods slowly.

They land soon after, sliding in through an energy field into the pressurised landing dock, where Kenobi lands the _Verdant_ on the appropriate landing pad. The Specialist goes through motions of systems check up on the ship and then shuts off her engines. The ever-present hum fades, and they're left in quiet, with only the bubbling of the hydroponics and sound of cooling metal in their ears.

"Right," Kenobi says and locks the controls, standing up. "I'm off to unload my cargo."

"Can we help?" Anakin asks, looking up at him.

Kenobi hesitates and sighs. "Fine, come on," he says. "There's stuff I need to get off the cold storage, you might as well help me carry it out."

Qui-Gon nods in agreement and he and Anakin follow Kenobi to the walk in cold storage, where Kenobi points out boxes to them, marked with various tags and plastoid stickers that seem to indicate various laboratories they're being sent into.

"What's in these?" Anakin asks, while Qui-Gon hands him one of the lighter boxes.

"Samples of plants, seeds, soils, water, compost…" Kenobi shrugs and hauls up a box himself. "Boring shit. Sometimes literally. Come on, I'll show you where to take these."

There are empty crates waiting in the _Verdant_ 's cargo hold, which seem to have limited insulation capabilities. With Kenobi's instructions, Qui-Gon and Anakin pile up the boxes inside, to be taken eventually elsewhere and distributed to where ever they need to go by the station staff. In the meanwhile, Kenobi starts unwrapping the crates in the cargo hold, to push them over to the hatch to be transported down from the ship. Whatever is in those crates, Qui-Gon supposes it doesn't require cold storage.

AgriCorp work seems to involve a lot of laboratory testing, he muses. and hauls in another box of samples into the awaiting crate.

There are people waiting down in the docks when Kenobi lowers the hatch for the first time, loaded to the brim with various crates. "Anything to cold in these, Kenobi?" someone shouts from below while the specialist leans over the edge to see.

"No, I'm still loading the cold ones up – all this stuff can do in room temp," Kenobi answers. "Mind number eight, though – lot of glass in that one."

"Got it," the station staff answers and the crates are ushered off.

In total unloading the ship takes about an hour – what had looked like not that much cargo turns into quite deal of it when it's all unwrapped and sent down and _Verdant_ 's cargo elevator is rather slow.

"Do you always have this much cargo to unload when you come in?" Qui-Gon asks curiously, as they watch the last crates being lowered and accepted below by station staff.

"This isn't really that much – my hold's mostly empty," Kenobi says with a shrug rummages through his pockets. "That was last of it. I'm going to go grab some things off the labs and then I'm off to report. Here," he says and lobs something at Qui-Gon. A remote controller. "It's for the cargo hatch."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon says, considering the controller and then hiding it away in his tunics. They're supposed to be observing Kenobi at work, however… it's rather obvious Kenobi doesn't want them underfoot right now. No doubt he has friends to see, as well as superiors to report to – and he doesn't want Qui-Gon there, listening in on his lamentations that will no doubt be about them and their situation.

"Can we go see the rings?" Anakin asks eagerly. "With the forests inside them?"

Qui-Gon frowns. "The greenhouses?" he asks and looks at Kenobi. "Is that possible?"

Kenobi nods. "Yeah, they're open for viewing and there's guides all over the place – we get schools touring this place all the time, so everything is pretty well marked for tours. You are going to need money if you want to eat out, though," he then says.

Qui-Gon hesitates. "I see," he says, trying to recall whether he has credits or not. He hadn't thought to request funds before this… mission started. "I'm certain we'll be fine. Is there a way to contact you, if something occurs?"

Kenobi hesitates and then sighs. "Right," he says. "Give me a moment, I'll get you a comm."

Qui-Gon and Anakin wait while Kenobi heads into the ship interior, getting whatever he needs from the labs before coming back with couple of datapads – and a set of comms. He hands one of them to Qui-Gon. "I'm probably going to be busy for the rest of the day," Kenobi says while pushing a small plastoid bag of what looks like dried leaves into his pocket. "So feel free to not contact me unless it's an emergency."  

"I'll… make sure not to do so, then," Qui-Gon says, frowning a little and then putting the comms unit away. "Do you know how long we will be staying here?" he asks then, quietly worried.

Considering the trouble Kenobi had gone through to get them on board his ship, going all the way to Coruscant to fetch them, he doesn't think the man would just turn around and leave them here, but…

"A day at least," Kenobi says and trundles on to the cargo hatch. "Maybe two, we'll see – I'll let you know if something comes up."

"Alright," Qui-Gon nods and looks down at Anakin. "What say you we go exploring the station, in the meanwhile?"

"Yes, please," Anakin says eagerly and quickly hops onto the cargo hatch beside Kenobi. "Hey, are there other aquaponics stuff in here?" the boy asks. "Like yours?"

"Not like mine, but on the 4th ring there's an aquaponics farm that feeds the whole station," Kenobi says. "It's a lot bigger than my set up, and they give tours and talks on how it works. You could go have a look, if you'd like."

"Can we?" Anakin asks, eyes wide as he turns to Qui-Gon.

"I don't see why not," Qui-Gon admits, stepping onto the cargo hatch as well, considering the boy. Anakin's preoccupation with the fish was getting… not precisely worrisome, but definitely marked. Well, he thinks, it's healthier than pod racing at any rate – and considering the world Anakin comes from… interest in such things is understandable.

A desert planet, Qui-Gon thinks, recalling what Kenobi had said about desertification of worlds, and for the first time wonders about the actual history of Tatooine – and how the world ended up the way it had, with standard atmosphere, and next to no plant life to speak off.

"I'm sure there's plenty of interesting things to see here," Qui-Gon muses as the cargo hatch lowers, wondering if a holonet terminal might be one of them. He thinks he'd like to look into history of Anakin's home world, if it has even been written down, being so far removed from the Republic as it is.

Kenobi jumps down from the hatch the soon as they get close to the ground and waits until Qui-Gon and Anakin are off as well before closing the hatch, sending it lifting back up and onto the ship with a remote of his own.

"I'll see you sometime later, I expect," Kenobi says, and doesn't sound like he much looks forward to it.

"Yes. I hope you have a productive day, Specialist Kenobi," Qui-Gon says and bows his head slightly. "May the Force be with you."

Kenobi blinks at that and some of his posture eases. "You as well, Master Jinn," he says with a nod. "Anakin," he adds, nodding to the boy as well. Then, after moment of hesitation, he whirls on his heel and walks off, approaching a cluster of awaiting attendants, who are looking through his cargo.

"Well," Qui-Gon says and looks at Anakin, who is all but bouncing with excitement. "Shall we go have a look around?"


	6. Chapter 6

Anakin doesn't know where to look first. The amount of plant life is _insane_. Every which way he turns there's a rack of plants or a shelf of bushes, there's vines hanging from those archways over there and everywhere there is water. There are fountains of it and on the floors there are little pathways of water, for a bit they even walk on top of glass with a tank of water right under them and _fish_. And somehow the fact that he can see _space_ over head just makes it all seem bigger.

The aquaponics farms of the Greenhouse are _huge_. The tanks, according to the signs standing all around, have something like thousands of fish in them, and judging by the looks of it they're not kept just for the systems or show like the fish on board the Verdant are – these fish are raised to be eventually eaten, getting replaced in the tanks by younger fish. The farms themselves are mix of enormous towers that reach the arched glass ceiling high above, with different sort of plants sticking every which way out of them – and long vats with thousand and thousands of plants growing in neat rows.

And despite what Kenobi had said about aesthetics, it's pretty, all of it. The beds of plants – or rather rafts since they seem to float on top of long, long beds of water – are build on top of prettily carved stone tables and the towers of plants are just pretty on their own – and there's the water, going everywhere. There's even a small artificial water fall there, which flows into one of the raised aquaponics beds and it's all just really, really _wizard_.

"So, what do you want to see first?" Qui-Gon asks, looking at little amused while Anakin tries to make his mind on what to goggle first – the fish tanks up ahead, the fish tanks under their feet, the holographic display little further away which looks like it's running a program on aquaponics, or all the plants. And seriously, there's so many plants!

"I don't _know_!" Anakin almost whines, indecisively taking few steps towards the plant towers – but there's that water fall too, and that fountain, it looks like there's fish in it too, there's fish and plants everywhere.

This, he thinks, might be a bit like what perfect afterlife is like.

"I want to see everything," Anakin complains and Qui-Gon laughs quietly.

There's another sound, a cleared throat, this one bit more feminine. "Would you like a tour?" she asks, amused.

It's a human girl, maybe five years older than Anakin, dressed in white tunics. "You work here?" Anakin asks.

"Mmhmm," she answers, nodding, looking between Anakin and Qui-Gon and bowing her head to Qui-Gon. "Master. I'm Adept Setlana – I'm doing a thesis on Aquaponics and I work as tour guide. If you have something you'd like to ask, I'd be happy to help."

"Adept, what does that mean?" Anakin asks and then, when Qui-Gon lays a warning hand on his shoulder, figures it was maybe a bit rude.

"It means I'm AgriCorps student," Adept Setlana says, her smile a little tight around the edges. "And am studying select subjects to do my eventual Specialisation in it – in my case, right now, aquaponics."

"You can study _just_ aquaponics?" Anakin asks, amazed. Kenobi had made it seem like it was just one small part of what he did.

"You can study just about anything, really," Setlana says, glancing at Qui-Gon and then straightening her back, looking a little uneasy. "Um, so is there anything you'd like help with? I can give you the regular tour if you'd like?"

Anakin stares at her, frowning a little at her posture – she looks like she's doing something wrong maybe? Then he looks up at Qui-Gon who sighs and smiles down at him. "Where would you like to start, then, Anakin?" the man asks, encouraging and – a little bit weird.

He's missing something, probably, some Jedi thing he's supposed to know but doesn't because no one explains these things to him, Anakin muses. Whatever, he then decides and looks at the girl. "Where does the whole thing start?" he asks, motioning at all the aquaponics around them. "Where does the system begin?"

"The system is circular – it doesn't have a beginning," the girl says. "But I guess if you mean what has to come first… that'd be the fish. You can't exactly start watering the plants without the fish." She motions to one of the near by tanks – it's big, enormous tube, with colourful rock and fake plants inside it like there's inside the tanks on board the Verdant.

"So you get the fish first," Anakin says and frowns. "And take the fish water to water the plants."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Setlana smiles and bows her head a little. "If you would like to follow me, I can walk you through the whole system and explain the microbiology of ecosphere involved."

"The what now?" Anakin asks excitedly, and all but bounces after her, Qui-Gon following few steps behind.

Turns out it's not as simple as _get fish, put fish in tank, give fish water to plants_. There's whole sort of microbes and bacteria and chemicals involved, a whole balancing act of setting everything right so that everything in the system is getting what they need out of it and nothing starts building up. Ammonia from fish waster converted to nitrites by bacteria which then were converted by more bacteria into nitrates, which unlike ammonia and nitrites aren't harmful to fish…

"The first and foremost issue is the pH value of the water – keeping it level," Setlana explains while they look over some water testing equipment on display by the tanks. "The nitrate cycle of the system can acidify the water pretty quickly, depending on the scale and speed of the water cycle…"

It all goes a bit over Anakin's head – he's never _ever_ had so much water that he had to worry about what was actually in it, and most their water had always come from a vaporator so it was always sterile. He didn't even know water could get acidic. It's both amazing and weirdly off-putting. So much water, and it could go _sour_?

"But if you do everything right, the system can get self sufficient pretty fast," Setlana continues as they move on to the actual grow beds, where the rows and rows of plants grow. "There's hundreds of ways to build a grow area for aquaponics – unlike traditional ground based farming, hydroponics, aquaponics and aeroponics systems are all very flexible in terms of space. You can build them wide, or tall…" she motions to the towers. "Whatever form you need to really."

"And the plants get everything they need out of the fish waste?" Qui-Gon asks thoughtfully as they look up at the grow towers.

"Well, you still need sunlight for most plants – there are exceptions, of course, but over ninety percent of galactic food crops use photosynthesis," Setlana says and when Anakin frowns, clarifies. "They convert sunlight for energy. Or as it is in most cases, the light of grow and plant lights. But aside from that, if you have right set of fish balanced with the right set of plants, you rarely need to add in anything to the system. Except fish food, of course, but that too can be made self sufficiently with little effort, all you need is right ingredients."

Anakin folds his arms. So you got to feed the fish too, they didn't get their food off the plants? Well it made sense, but he'd thought… whatever. "How much water do you need?"

"Well that depends on your system, really," Setlana says, considering him. "You can do aquaponics out of a glass jar if that's all you have – and you can scale it up pretty much infinitely. So as long as you can balance water ratio to fish present, and then sort out nitrate cycle and pH balance and whatnot… there's really no size limit there."

"Yeah, but," Anakin makes a face, trying to figure out how to put what he wants to know into words. "Say I want to grow as much food as is on, um… just one of those towers," he says, motioning. "How much water do I need?"

Setlana looks up and folds her arms, frowning. "It's not that simple," she says. "It depends on the fish, really – you usually calculate the rate by feed ratio, not by fish, and from feed ratio comes number of fish, but that depends on the type of fish too and  –"

"But how _much_?" Anakin asks again, little impatient.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon sighs.

Setlana lets out a frustrated sigh. "Hundreds of litres," she says finally. "One to five hundred, maybe thousand. Give me the type of fish, the plants you want to keep and the system you're building and I can give you an exact number but there's no real common average."

Anakin settled, satisfied. Kenobi's tanks were huge, weren't they – three meter high at least, and at least one and half wide, each, and he had four of them feeding his systems. That was at least… sixty thousand litres of water, minus the area taken by coral… Ugh, maths.

So, with Kenobi's system you could feed… at least sixty of those towers? Kenobi's system is all in racks in the ship, with a mess of pipes and drip system that watered everything – it was a lot of racks, but Anakin thinks the growth towers probably have more plants than Kenobi's system of tens of thousands of litres of water has…

It blows his mind a little, that he is trying to calculate water by actual literal _tons of it_. That's just insane. In Tatooine, hundred litres of water would've been a fortune. Where do these people get all this water from anyway?

"Do you want to continue with the tour?" Setlana asks, tentative.

"Yeah," Anakin says and shakes his head. He'll do calculations later – when he has time. And maybe one of Kenobi's droids to ask about the actual volume of water in Kenobi's system.

"Right," Setlana says and motions ahead. "Onto harvesting. With the systems we have here, we harvest about ten thousand plants each day just in this section – here we do it by hand, for demonstration purposes but if you'll follow me I'll show you our automated systems as well…"

 The amount of water and the amount of food just _happening_ all around is so bizarre. As Anakin and Qui-Gon watch, people take out the floating plant rafts off the water beds, while other side some people take down the growth towers, to harvest all the plants sticking out of them by hand. There's also sort of arch way little further away with aquaponically grown plants growing all over them, their fruits hanging down from the lattice of the archway – there's already baskets of stuff there that has been hand picked from the hanging wines. Fruits and berries, lot of greens, Anakin can even see stuff he'd spotted on Kenobi's ship like onions and peppers and stuff.

Lot and lot and _lot of food_ and it's nothing compared to what's happening in the actual automated systems, where robotic arms are planting and picking and testing water. There, the food production is somewhere in the neighbourhood of hundred thousand plants per day.

"How much water is in that system?" Anakin asks, pointing at the growth beds. Tens of thousands of litres. "And that one?" he points at the growth towers, and gets about same figure. "And the automated systems?" Apparently _hundreds_ of thousands of litres.

"All in total there are about four million litters of water circulating on the Fourth Circle," Setlana says, giving him a strange look. "And we produce roughly give twenty thousand tons of food and about five thousand edible fish every day – enough to not only feed the entire station, but we also process lot of it into dry rations to be shipped out."

"This is _insane_ ," Anakin finally bursts out as he tries and fails to wrap his head around it. "We're in space! Where do you get all this water from?!"

"… asteroid mining, mostly?" Setlana answers, giving him a slightly alarmed look.

Anakin lets out a disgusted noise. Rich people!

Qui-Gon clears his throat. "Apologies – we're rather new to the actual systems of aquaponics," he says, resting a soothing hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I hope we've not been trouble."

"No, no, of course not Master, it's been a pleasure to show you around," Setlana says and bows her head quickly. "I've pretty much gone over the whole system now, but if you want to know anything else I'll be happy to tell you," she says and then considers Anakin. "You seem very keen on the subject."

"I guess," Anakin answers and frowns at one of the near by growth beds. In Tatooine this would be impossible, huh? They got plenty of sunlight but water… psh. Not so much of that, unless you're filthy rich – or a moisture farmer. And he doubts even moisture farming would get you tens of thousands of litres of water, unless you kept at it for maybe a year. And hundred of thousands of litres hah. That would take decades, easily.

"I don't suppose you have some sort of reading material we might take away from this?" Qui-Gon asks thoughtfully.

"Yes, of course – there's a store over there, which sells all sorts of aquaponics stuff, and there's some handouts on display there too," Setlana says and motions. "Please, let me show you."

Anakin is still trying to figure out the logistics of finding hundreds of thousands of litres of water on Tatooine as they enter the store, and he forgets the calculations entirely.

They got not just reading stuff on sale – but tanks and _fish_ and even actual plants. There's even small systems set up, with tanks with fish on bottom and rack of plants sitting above it, water pumps shifting water in and out of the system.

"Oh," Anakin says and steps closer to look. "Hey I know these fish – Kenobi has fish like these."

"I think you might be right, they look familiar," Qui-Gon agrees.

"You mean… Specialist Kenobi?" Setlana asks, looking between them, her eyes widening a little.

"Yes, we came here on board his ship," Qui-Gon says. "His aquaponics system is what brought us here, in fact."

"I see," the girl says and blushes a little, looking down. "That's nice. Um, let's see about that reading material."

Anakin ignores them, bending down to watch the fish in the tank. Kenobi's fish are bigger, he decides – these are all tiny. But then, Kenobi's tanks are huge, so he probably wouldn't bother to get tiny fish.

Still, kinda pretty.

"So you sell whole aquaponics systems here too?" he can hear Qui-Gon ask behind him.

"Just small desktop versions for personal homes – for anything bigger, you'd have to make an order."

"Hmm," Qui-Gon answers.

Anakin narrows his eyes at the tank in front of him. Its not big, especially compared to the other tanks he's seen so far, maybe half a hundred litres, probably less, with thirty or so small fish inside. Atop it has a rack of maybe… twelve plants? Fifty litres of water just to feed twelve plants.

He can't tell if he's disappointed or not. The water circulates, sure, so it's not lost immediately or anything – you gotta top of the tank eventually, sure, but still. Fifty litres of water. If you had fifty litres of water on Tatooine, you stored it and kept it for _drinking_. Thirst kills you faster than hunger, after all.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon speaks behind him and Anakin turns. The man is holding in his arms a – a big bowl with some gravel on bottom, and a weird looking cups made of net and what looks like holder made for them and –

Anakin stares for a moment – and then he gets what it is, his eyes widening.

Qui-Gon smiles. "According to Setlana, you can keep up to five fish in this safely," he says, crouching down to show the bowl to Anakin. "Would you want to select some fish for yourself?"

"Are you _kidding me_?" Anakin asks, horrified and breathless. It's big, the bowl, made of plastoid judging by the looks of it – when he peers into it he can see there's even a water pump inside with some tubing. "But – the water, can I really –"

"I'm sure we can afford the water, here," Qui-Gon says, while Setlana looks on with a strange expression.

"But –" Anakin starts and stops, feeling suddenly _terrified_. "But I don't even have a place to put it?" he says quietly. He has a cabin on board the Verdant, sure, but no actual room, not anymore, and the Jedi Order might not let him stay and…

"You will, one day soon," Qui-Gon promises very firm. "Go on – go select some fish. Adept Setlana, can you advice him what type he should get?"

"Yes, of course," she says, quiet, and smiles to Anakin. "Would you like to have a look what we have on display?"

Anakin looks at the bowl and then at her and then at Qui-Gon and for a moment he feels a bit like crying. Qui-Gon's getting him an aquaponics system. A small one, but it'll be his. "Yes, please," he says, and smiling Setlana shows him to the tanks on display, with hundreds of little fish flickering inside.

In the end Anakin gets three fish – five is stretching the limits of the bowl, apparently, the fish need as much space as they can and with three they will be more comfortable. He also gets some fish food and a test to keep track of the water acidity levels and chemical balance. Setlana also gets them some booklets on fish care, how to acclimate them to the tank once they set it up, as well as some stuff on aquaponics in general, before letting them know where they could buy the water for the tank, suggesting that they get plenty of extra.

"There will be issues at first," she says while handing them a packet of starter seeds. "And sometimes it's just easier to change the water and start from the beginning, than to try to get all the ammonia out of the water."

"Thank you, we will try to be careful," Qui-Gon says while Anakin peers at the bowl. The fish he'd selected – erey fish according to Setlana, hardy sort of fish that can manage with minimal oxygen, are stuck in little plastoid bags with plenty of water inside – it kind of blows his mind that on top of everything, they've been given good litre or two of water on top of everything else, and the store didn't even charge extra for it.

"Well, I wish you luck with your aquaponics experiments," Setlana says, after Qui-Gon had paid for the system.

"This is so wizard," Anakin murmurs, shaking his head. Pity, he can't take it to Tatooine to show to Kitster – he would've gotten such a kick out of the whole thing. And so would've his mom. And pretty much everyone he'd ever known.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon says to Setlana considers his credit chip for a moment before putting it away. Then he looks down to Anakin, smiling. "There we go – it's all yours.

"Yeah," Anakin says, and hesitates for a moment before throwing his arms around Qui-Gon's waist and hugging him tightly. "Thank you for buying me stuff," he mumbles against the man's tunics. No one's ever bought him stuff, other than his mom. And Qui-Gon didn't look like he had much money anyway, but he'd still bought him a tank and water and fish. "I love it, thank you."

"You're welcome Anakin," Qui-Gon says warmly and gently pries him off. "Let's head back then, shall we? Seems we have a tank to set up."

Anakin sniffles and nods, watching Qui-Gon lift the tank off the counter, fish and all. He bows his head to Setlana, piping a quick thank you to her, before following Qui-Gon out of the store. "Do you think Kenobi will mind us bringing this on board his ship?" he asks worriedly.

"I'm sure he won't mind. Or care," Qui-Gon mutters under his breath and then shakes his head. "And if he does, don't you worry about it – I'll handle it."

"Mm," Anakin answers, keeping in pace with him and watching the fish jostle around in their plastoid bags. "Why does everyone here look at you funny?" he asks then, looking up. It wasn't just Setlana – everyone they'd passed by sort of stopped and stared, some of them even bowed. He's not sure any of them looked happy to see them, though.

Qui-Gon sighs and for a moment it seems like he might just shake his head with that _it's complicated_ excuse and not actually say anything… but he does. "Jedi Service Corps, like the AgriCorps here, are generally formed of Jedi Initiates that did not become Padawan Learners," he says quietly. "I suspect it's rare to see a Jedi Master here. It might be bringing up some… memories for the Service Corps members here, to see one such as myself."

Anakin nods slowly, not sure he gets it.  "So they're sad because they can't be Jedi themselves, anymore?"

"They are still Jedi, trained extensively in the use of the Force and following the Jedi ways, but I suppose it's not the same, no," Qui-Gon says and shakes his head. "All of these people were trained nearly from birth to become Jedi Knights, but it wasn't to be for them. Some unease is… understandable."

Anakin looks down, thinking about Kenobi, how tense he always is with Qui-Gon, how it always feels like he's about to just bolt. It's worse for him, probably – because Qui-Gon could've been his master, but didn't take him.

But he doesn't really get it, though. Compared to the cold Jedi Temple of Coruscant and all the stiff people there, the Greenhouse and the AgriCorps seem like such a better place. Why are they so awkward and stiff and sad when they get to work with plants and water and _fish_ and stuff – and they're still helping people. Sure it's not, like, fighting for a queen to help her take back her planet or anything, but… food is important. Water is _precious_. And from what he'd seen so far, Jedi Knights didn't get to have their own ships full of water and plants.

So, really… how are the AgriCorps in any way a _letdown_? 

Anakin frowns a little, trying to figure it out and then shakes his head. He just doesn't get it. Maybe it's just one of those things you'd have to be raised in the Jedi Temple to understand.

For now, he has fish, and fish bowl, and little aquaponic system to set up. He can't wait to figure it out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly brief Obi-Wan x Original Male Character.  
> And also smoking of mystery substances, aka, space weed. oops

Obi-Wan wakes up early, as he tends to do on board the _Verdant_ – with the sun, as it were. Like his ship the Greenhouse runs on the galactic standard day cycle, their times are more or less in sync, so it is still relatively quiet as he slides out of the bed. The major systems of the station haven't come online yet – the air filtration has been set low.

There are times he still misses living on the Greenhouse. Of course on the Verdant he has his own cycles and everything happens more or less on time, but it lacks the regulation and rigorous rhythm of the Greenhouse, where everything is timed _just so_ and everything happens on time. From harvests to classes to lessons to work, everything is rigorously scheduled and there's a weird sense of security in that.

In Greenhouse they knew, each and every day, how much food they'd produce, how much water would be filtered, how much oxygen would be used, how the temperature would need to be regulated and why. In the Greenhouse, everything was kept track of. In the Greenhouse, all you had to do was to check a terminal to know exactly where you stood.

On Verdant Obi-Wan tried to do the same, but he's not that systematic – leaving the scheduled maintenance to the droids, who can keep track of it better.

After a quick trip to the fresher – so much bigger than his own, and with an actual water bath – Obi-Wan sets some tea to seep and then collapses onto the couch in the living area, leaning back.

He'd meant to go back to the Verdant for the night. He should go back to the ship now – Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker would be there and though they'd been relatively easy passengers so far, he worries about what they might've gotten up to. Especially on the Greenhouse. He doesn't care, really, if they got into trouble with the AgriCorps members around but…

Okay he cares a little. Just a little.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Obi-Wan sighs. No new mission yet – murmurs about a few check ups he should be doing on worlds he'd aided in the past, maybe, he certainly wouldn't mind visiting Araknag and seeing how their pools are doing… but nothing concrete. The management is _worried_ about giving a bad impression to his oh so important guest, after all. You can't exactly send a _Jedi Master_ of all things to watch someone toil in mud and dirt, that's below them!

Really, Obi-Wan wishes he'd know what the hell the Jedi High Council is after so he could just give it to his oh so important quest and get rid of him as soon as possible.

There's a sound of water bubbling and Obi-Wan opens his eyes, looking up to the aquarium that dominates the room, taking up almost the entire back wall. It's been aquascaped to _perfection_ of course, looking like someone had taken a slice of an ocean shore with a sandy beach and everything, with coral growing under water and regular plants growing above. The water even waves, as if with ocean currents. On the _shore_ of the aquascape, a couple of turtles are sunning under the heat lamp – in the water seahorses cluster about some underwater plants, tangled in their leafs.

There's nothing practical about the display, none of the creatures within are neither endangered or useful and the plants are very pointedly _not_ edible or medicinally useful. It's the sort of opulence Obi-Wan thinks Anakin and Qui-Gon would heartily disapprove.

"Why, oh _why_ , are you awake at this hour?" a voice mutters from the bedroom door and Obi-Wan tilts his head back. "You lunatic. Come back to bed."

"I should head back to the ship," Obi-Wan says and hums when he feels arms wrapping around him from behind. "Before they find out I'm here and put me on the lecture circuit."

"You love the lecture circuit," Hahsona answers and presses his face against Obi-Wan's hair. "Mmm…"

Obi-Wan elbows at him. "Go back to bed, you lush," he says, jostling the togruta lightly. "And don't drool in my hair."

"Your hair is warm," Hahsona answers but lifts his face and rests his chin on top of Obi-Wan's head. "You feeling any better?"

"Tch," Obi-Wan answers, leaning his head back a little, resting it against the man's chest. He has vague recollection of complaining about Qui-Gon for most of the night. "I'll be fine. Sorry about all of the whining," he sighs. "I'll handle it." Or rather, he'll _endure it_ , but it's the same thing really.

"Hmm," Hahsona answers and then pats his bare chest soothingly, pulling away. "Mysteries of Jedi High Council are entirely beyond the likes of you or me, it's not up to us to question or understand," he says as he heads for the kitchen. "Or honestly give one jot about. Shall I pour for you?"

"Please," Obi-Wan says and soon after Hahsona comes back, carrying two cups of tea – and a pipe. Obi-Wan makes a face at it. "Bit early for that, don't you think?"

"You're the one to talk – you grow this stuff in your bedroom," Hahsona snorts and hands him the teacup, sitting down beside Obi-Wan and casually throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Has your Jedi Master found out about it yet?"

"Funnily enough he doesn't have invitation to my bedroom," Obi-Wan scoffs and takes a sip of the tea, watching Hahsona light the pipe with a negligent use of pyrokinesis. The man is utterly ridiculous, Obi-Wan thinks, and then waves a hand when the togruta offers the pipe to him. "I need to go back," he says. "And I don't think the impression the AgriCorp Council wants me to leave on Master Jinn involves me being high at – oh, six o'clock in the morning."

"Time is relative – it's always late evening somewhere," Hahsona grins and crosses one leg over another.

"It's not late evening _here_ ," Obi-Wan says and shakes his head. "And I got the AgriCorps council breathing down my neck about _putting a good foot forward_ or whatever," he mutters and looks down at the tea cup. "To uphold the standards and standing of the Jedi Agricultural Service Corps, in the greater Jedi Order."

"Ah, responsibility. That's what you get for being interesting, Obi-Wan," Hahsona laughs, and sips his tea, watching him. "But, seriously… are you okay?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer for a while. "I'm not _not_ okay," he admits. "I'm just irritated. I don't _need_ this in my life right now. Or ever."

"I don't know about that," Hahsona says and Obi-Wan looks up with his frown. "Do you have any idea how many Service Corp members would like the chance you got? Hell, lot of us just _need_ it. It's not that simple, I know, it probably feels awful… but it's still chance at closure. Chance to face up your Last One and get a damn answer finally. Maybe even a straight one, for once."

Obi-Wan says nothing. He and Qui-Gon haven't talked about it. Obi-Wan because he's not sure he really wants to know why, anymore, and Qui-Gon… probably because he doesn't actually think it was that important. "Would you be able to ask?" he asks, looking up.

"Sure. If that old hag was still alive, I'd love to march up to her and try and shake out some damn answers out of her," Hahsona says and lifts the pipe to his lips, scowling. "But Master Fen-Enea is dead. She died four years ago. And I never had the balls to actually contact her and ask before I lost that opportunity. That's on me and I'll regret it always, probably."

Obi-Wan eyes the other AgriCorp member – another Specialist – silently for a moment and then looks away. He still doesn’t want to ask that question from Qui-Gon, _why not me_ … but Hahsona is right. Getting that closure would… help in long run. He's not needed a mind healer in a while, not since that debacle in Iembas-5 where the famine had gotten to the point where people were turning on each other, but…

It was why he'd agreed to take Qui-Gon and his prospective Padawan on, wasn't it? To get closure. He just hadn't… hadn't really known what it would mean, to have the man _there_ , in _flesh_ being all… person-like. And all _Jedi_ like, too, which just makes it worse. He's always known, of course, that Jedi Knights life infinitely more restricted, abstaining lifestyles, but having a living reminder brings it home.

Qui-Gon Jinn is so… restrained. Not emotionless, but what he feels he suppresses and hides and… and it makes it always so damn hard to see what the man is actually thinking or feeling, what he actually _wants_. Could Obi-Wan be able to read him, had he been his Padawan?

"Not very Jedi like, to regret things," Obi-Wan mutters and sips his tea.

"Well, we're the wash outs," Hahsona says and nudges at him with his knee. "Who cares what we do?"

"AgriCorps council does, unfortunately," Obi-Wan mutters and then makes a face as Hahsona blows a cloud of smoke at him. "Do you _have to_?" he asks, annoyed, and waves the smoke away.

"Possibly. It might be actually demanded by law, somewhere – it is my civic duty to de-stress you," Hahsona says and grins, leaning his cheek onto his knuckles and tilting his head just so. "Sure you don't want to go back to bed? Surely you'll make better impression heading back in a good mood."

Obi-Wan gives him a flat look, but can't help following the line of his neck down, where the white lines of his face end and point, rather suggestively, downwards. Hahsona grins at him and then holds out the pipe.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan pushes it aside and reaches to kiss him instead.

* * *

 

He does feel a little better when heading back to the Verdant, little later and fresh from shower. So far no one's contacted him about doing any lectures, at least, so he dares to take his time wandering towards the docs, taking in the specks of plant life all around the station. They're on an autumn rotation now, it looks – lot of the trees and bushes that spot the corridors and halls of the station are in hues of gold and red, and the lights have been set on warmer tones, to simulate autumnal season.

It's all sorts of fake, compared to an honest to Force planetary seasonal cycle, but it's a comforting sort of fakery, really. They're in space and everything within eyesight is artificial, but here the natural flow of seasons so many planets have matters.

Obi-Wan has now lived almost half of his life in space – and all of his adult life. At twenty five he's still young, especially in terms of an AgriCorp member – their life expectancy is nearly triple that of the Jedi in the order of Knights. Still… It's been a sort of lifetime, hasn't it? Would he even know what to do in place like the Jedi Temple in Coruscant? Probably not.

Not that it matters.

Slowly, Obi-Wan wanders towards the docks. He has plants to check up on, and he should refill the water tanks, maybe replenish the stores. And if he isn't going to get a mission soon, he'll get some fish maybe and head to Araknag to do a check up on their systems – they wouldn't mind freshening up the gene pool of their fish…

Verdant waits where he's left it, and it looks undisturbed – through the cockpit screens he can see the lights inside. Of course, it doesn't necessarily mean that Qui-Gon and Anakin are in – the lights run on a timer after all. Still, as lovely as time spent with someone like Hahsona can be… There's no place like home.

Even if the house guests are a little disagreeable.

Obi-Wan opens the hatch with a remote and gets on the ship, taking the slow ascent on the cargo elevator to calm his mind and refit himself into the ecosphere of Living Force inside his ship. And there it is – or rather, they are, two gravity wells of force, dragging on the natural currents of energy in his ship. Qui-Gon and Anakin are in the kitchen, it feels like.

"Sir, sir," MD-5 comes to greet him, speeding through the air and damn near doing a happy circuit around him. "Welcome back, sir, you've been away for 34 hours, sir – we were getting worried."

"Sorry about that, should've sent a word," Obi-Wan sighs. "Anything to report?"

"Everything is within regular parameters," MD-5 says. "We have not yet included the new system within our schedule however – we aren't sure where it will be placed."

Obi-Wan frowns and looks up. "What new system?"

A desk top aquaponics system, apparently.

Obi-Wan stares, a little uncomprehending, at the scene taking place in his kitchen. There's a fishbowl sitting in the kitchen table, on top of which there is a rack and a small planter box with three net pots inside it. Inside the otherwise lifeless fish bowl there are three little fish, swimming about confusedly in the tight, round space.

Anakin Skywalker is very seriously doing what looks like one-use water test on the system while Qui-Gon watches on. The Jedi Master looks… sheepish, when he spots them.

"Welcome back," Qui-Gon says and folds his hands into his sleeves. "Apologies – we've rather taken over your kitchen."

"So I see," Obi-Wan says and, for the lack of anything better to do with his hands except maybe confused flailing, he folds his arms. "Do I want to know what's going on here?" he asks dubiously.

"Master Qui-Gon bought me an aquaponics system!" Anakin says, brightly, _happily_ and Obi-Wan almost recoils from it. The kid's emotions are like flash bang going off – quick and _vivid_. "I'm doing test on the water – we bought it from the station," he then adds, very quickly. "We didn't take any of the ship's water, promise."

"Mm-hmm," Obi-Wan answers, slow, and looks at Qui-Gon. He's not… entirely sure what to say. Or think.

Qui-Gon coughs and he looks almost embarrassed. "It seemed like a thing to do," he says. "Since Anakin has build up an… interest in the matter."

"Of… aquaponics," Obi-Wan says slowly, confused. Was that something a prospective Jedi Padawan Learner and prospective future Knight had time for? Weird, for Qui-Gon to be encouraging it. "Alright then, you do you, I guess."

"We wouldn't mind some advice, if you have any to give," Qui-Gon offers. "We set it up according to the instructions, but… second opinion wouldn't be amiss, I dare say."

Dare you, indeed, Obi-Wan thinks wryly and looks at Anakin, who looks between him and the water test. Well… oh fuck it, Obi-Wan thinks and walks over to see. "What sort of test are you doing?"

"I'm testing the pH level," Anakin says and makes a face. "I'm not sure what it means though? I mean it's for acidify but it says here something about water being hard or basic? And I don't really get that."

"I see," Obi-Wan says and peers in to look. Judging by the test, they'd bought drinking water – pH 6.9. "Well the value of pure water is 7 pH. Number lower than that means it's acidic, and above that makes it base – hardness and softness on other hand is about what's in the water. Calcium, salt, so on."

He takes the test strip Anakin is using and considers it. It only gives the pH value, and nothing else, very basic. He could get the kid some better stuff for testing the water of his tanks from his lab, but…

Obi-Wan considers the kid and then Qui-Gon, wondering. Knight Master buying his prospective student an aquarium as gift, that he can sort of understand, it's not that uncommon a gift to make sense… but a full aquaponics set, even a small one, that's something else. That's not something you just put on table and enjoy for aesthetics sake – aquaponics is a production system, it takes work, it takes effort.

It takes learning.

"Are you hoping to learn aquaponics?" Obi-Wan asks slowly, but he's watching Qui-Gon, wondering.

"Yeah, I wanna learn," Anakin says and leans in to look at the fish in his fishbowl. "And apparently plants are good filters for nitrates and whatnot in fish tanks and I want to take good care of the fish."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan answers, watching Qui-Gon. His reaction is – calm. Just calm. No hint of indulgent or wry amusement, or expectation – not a smidge of snootiness. Whatever's happening here, Qui-Gon isn't expecting an instant failure, or isn't resigned to the work. At least Obi-Wan doesn't think so. He doesn't seem to be turning his nose up to the concept of learning aquaponics either, which is more interesting still.

Obi-Wan really doesn't get the man at all. But if he's not against the whole thing and if Anakin really wants to learn Aquaponics, then… then Obi-Wan is going to treat him as student.

"I can give you hints but if you want to learn how to manage a system like that, you're going to have to do the work yourself," he tells the boy and hands the test strip back. "I'm not going to hand the answers to you. MD-6?" he calls towards the repurposed bacta tanks.

"Yes, sir?" the monitor droid asks, quickly swinging into view from around the water tanks.

"Get a datapad and put on it some basic info about small aquaponics systems," Obi-Wan says and the droid bops and weaves in air and then speeds off. Obi-Wan looks down at Anakin. "Do some reading, do some testing and if you have questions, I'll help you along. But that's your system – you're going to have to manage it yourself."

"Yes, sir," Anakin says, eyes wide and then looks down at the little setup. "Um, I should take this to my cabin, huh?"

"Or you can push it to the wall, either's fine," Obi-Wan says and considers the setup. "Did you plant seeds yet?"

"Uh-huh," Anakin says and hands him a packet. "These ones."

Obi.-Wan reads the package and sighs, running a hand over his chin. Lettuce, strawberry and basilica. Of course. They must've gotten it from a tourist shop.

"Right. Well, It's going to take weeks for them to grow," Obi-Wan says wryly. "And until they do they'll be no help to your system. Come on – we'll get some cuttings off the ship for you to add to your system in the mean while, help with the nitrate filtration."

"What, really?" Anakin asks and bounces after him as Obi-Wan turns to head out, to get some cutters. Qui-Gon follows after them, slightly more sedate but curious and Obi-Wan can feel the man's eyes on the back of his neck. He smothers a shudder.

Anakin is wide eyed and exited as Obi-Wan gets him a set of plastoid gloves – all too big for the boy, but who cares – and hands him cutters. "When ever cutting a plant, wash your tools," Obi-Wan says while showing the boy to a cleaning station. "And make sure your hands are clean. Plants can get infected too."

"Right," the boy says very serious and washes the cutters on Obi-Wan's direction before looking up expectantly.

"Back to the corridor. You'll need some pothos to start with – it grows by the cockpit," Obi-Wan says and motions the boy to go head. Anakin hurries out, excited, and Obi-Wan moves to follow, walking past Qui-Gon who is hovering by the door, watching.

"Thank you for this," Qui-Gon says quietly. "I'm afraid I'm little help with things of this nature."

Obi-Wan frowns but doesn't answer – doesn't really know how to answer. So instead he follows Anakin and shows him the pothos which is valiantly trying to overtake the area around the cockpit door.

Anakin makes for a very attentive student, if one far younger than others Obi-Wan has taught in his time. AgriCorps members come from aging out Jedi Initiates so they're rarely younger than thirteen – Anakin can't be ten yet, nine perhaps. It's not just his age that sets him apart, though. It's his excitement.

The boy is honestly, _eagerly_ attentive of his impromptu lesson, borderline spellbound, which is so unlike how most every young AgriCorp students react, to whom such lesson would've been little more than punishment to endure. Unlike them, Anakin Skywalker actually wants to learn.

Obi-Wan… is honestly not sure what to do with that either.

"Pothos isn't really edible, but it's not poisonous either, so it's safe to handle – still, always best to use gloves, especially on my ship," Obi-Wan says while untangling one wine of the plant of the wall. "Now, see here, where the leaves branch out? You will want to cut here, just above a leaf – that way you will have a good stem for your cutting, and the main plant can keep on growing. Cut at an angle, here."

"But won't the cut of part die?" Anakin asks, alarmed.

"Plants work by different set of rules," Obi-Wan says. "What we're doing right now is called propagation. Certain plants, when you cut them right and then plant them right, can just keep on growing – both the main plant and the cut of part. Now cut damn the thing."

Anakin's lip quivers for a moment and then he steels himself and cuts the plant, snipping the stem cleanly where Obi-Wan points. The cut of part falls into Obi-Wan's hand and Anakin waits for a moment and then lets out a breath. "Huh," the boy says and peers at the cutting. "It's still alive?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan says slowly. "Plants are pretty resilient, and pothos is a particularly hardy one. Now, let's get few more cutting."

"Right," Anakin says, and feeling bit more confident he snips of few more cuttings where Obi-Wan points, until they have a total of five. "Okay, now what?" Anakin asks, while Qui-Gon peers in on the cuttings.

"Now we plant them in your system," Obi-Wan says, holding out a hand for the cutters and depositing the small bundle of cuttings in Anakin's hands. "Just stick the stems into the grow media, that'll do so as long as you make sure they're wet. In few days, they'll start putting out roots and growing."

"Really?" Anakin asks, amazed, staring at the cut of bits of plants

"Mm-hmm," Obi-Wan says and considers. "Did acclimate the fish to your tank properly?" he asks.

"We followed the instructions to the letter," Qui-Gon promises. "We let the bags sit in the water for a while to level out the temperature before breaking the bags and letting the fish out."

"And you added in the water you got with the fish?" Obi-Wan asks.

Qui-Gon nods slowly. "Shouldn't we have?"

"No, it's good you did," Obi-Wan says, thoughtful. It would add some bacteria to the tank, and hopefully it wouldn't take long for them to start dealing with ammonia. "Just stick the plants in and it'll probably be fine."

"Probably," Anakin repeats suspiciously.

"Probably," Obi-Wan says. The cycle would settle and the fish would live – or it didn't and they'd die. It happened. "In either case, we'll see, in day or two."

"Right," Anakin says and looks at the cuttings. "I'm going to go plant these," he says then, very determined, and marches back to the kitchen.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "Well okay then," he says and looks at the Jedi Master, who is considering the plant they took the cuttings off. "So, an aquaponics system," Obi-Wan comments.

"It's not a bad thing to have interest in," Qui-Gon says. "Especially since his other habits include pod racing."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows lift. "Pod racing," he repeats rather flatly. "Really."

"He's a Force sensitive with a rather difficult background," Qui-Gon says and sighs. "Little of it peaceful. In comparison, this seems… healthier."

"Hm," Obi-Wan answers and scratches at his neck, thinking of the telltale sings of stims in the kid's blood. He'd almost forgotten, with last night… "Do you want me to arrange his health check?" he asks, awkward. "And the vaccinations and such."

"If you tell me where to go and who to talk to about it, I can do it myself," Qui-Gon says and bows his head. "But yes, I would appreciate it."

Obi-Wan nods and looks away from Qui-Gon's expression of quiet, somewhat guilty gratitude.

It had been far easier when Qui-Gon had been just a point of regret in his past, a childhood boogie man and impossible goal to long for. Now, with this actual human version of him, with all the flaws and all the compassion of any old person…

It had been easier, when Obi-Wan had been able to hate him in peace.

"We should talk, at some point," Obi-Wan says awkwardly. "About… you know."

 Qui-Gon eyes him steadily and bows his head. "Yes," he says quietly. "We should. At some point."

Obi-wan nods and then takes a breath. That settled, he turns to follow Anakin, to make sure the kid plants the cuttings properly. Qui-Gon follows him near silently, a looming presence, still somehow too big to be even real. Larger than life, just now with added benefit of being awkward.

Obi-Wan isn't sure if that's a point against him or in favour, but it's definitely different.


	8. Chapter 8

Qui-Gon sets the datapad slowly down, turning his eyes to Anakin. The boy is all but lying on the kitchen table, just watching the fish swimming in the tank, seeming completely happy with just that. He feels that way too – there's a sort of concentrated _contentedness_ coming off him that makes Qui-Gon smile faintly.

In front of him he has the analysis of Tatooine – soil composition, atmospheric analysis, weather system, history. Though the Holonet had had limited information concerning the planet, the AgriCorps had made a comprehensive investigation years ago, centuries ago. And it's not a good one.

It seems there is a classification system for planets that a fall under AgriCorps' purview and Tatooine is estimated to be a class 7, whatever that means. Judging by what he's read so far, though… it doesn't seem that planet at Tatooine's level of desertification can be restored to its previous state of having greenery and forests and such – or if it can be, it's an undertaking that would take decades if not centuries of concentrated efforts and trillions of credits. Considering Tatooine's small population, its placement in the galaxy and of course its government status… it's unlikely to ever happen.

Sadly, it seems like just planting new things isn't a simple cure for desert worlds. Not that Qui-Gon had ever believed such things could be simple, but it is rather more damning to read it in hard, scientific language.

Shutting the tablet off, Qui-Gon looks away from Anakin and his little fish bowl and to the massive repurposed bacta tanks instead. He thinks he understands Anakin's interest in it a little better now though – just reading about the long, harsh history of Tatooine made it feel like bit of the desert world's heat had permeated into his being. After all the damning facts of Tatooine's poor soil composition and its frankly lethal temperature ranges, there is something very soothing about the blue light screening through the tanks, the bubbling of air inside, the flow of the fish as they flicker about in the tank…

Idly, Qui-Gon wonders if he should have discouraged Anakin's interest in aquaponics instead of encouraging it. He's not so sure now if it's like giving false hope to the boy. If Anakin is thinking that aquaponics might be a solution to Tatooine's lifelessness…

Not that that is the biggest issue here, really, is it.

Leaning forward a little, resting his elbows on the kitchen table and leaning his weight on them, Qui-Gon turns his attention back to the boy.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had taken _four minutes_ to explain the boy a few things about aquaponics. In those four minutes, and with very little effort, he'd proven himself a better teacher than Qui-Gon for the boy.

Kenobi is out now, requisitioning refill for his storages. Judging by the sounds outside, the clanking and hissing, they're already refilling the ship's water tanks. Despite the amount of water circulation happening in the ship, it seems that there is a lot of water loss too – the plants taking their share, naturally – so the tanks had to be refilled periodically. Considering the size of the fish tanks alone, Qui-Gon has to wonder how big the actual storage tanks are. He thinks he'd seen them outside the ship – and the fact that they had to be placed outside the hull spoke volumes.

Anakin reaches out a hand and taps at the glass of the bowl gently, grinning as the fish inside flicker away in alarm, making agitated little circles in the bowl.

Anakin would probably be perfectly happy in the AgriCorps. It's not something Qui-Gon had even thought of before seeing Kenobi's ship – the whole observation mission had seemed like a waste of time to him before that, but now… having seen the boy's reaction and his obvious interest, it's different.

Anakin is a technically-minded boy – he likes to know how things work and figure out how to make them work _better_. That Qui-Gon had known, and privately felt a small concern about how the Jedi Order might react to it. Add into that the boy's origins, his history, and throw something like the AgriCorps with their very mechanical systems of water management and food production…

There aren't exactly plethora of mechanics in the Jedi Temple, the interest in material things is… discouraged. There are a few Jedi technicians Qui-Gon knows, even one honest-to-force droid mechanic – and over the years he's observed the quiet disapproval they constantly operate under. There is a general, settled consensus of disregard for technology, that seems almost integral part of the Jedi Order.

If the Jedi Temple could live in total technological isolation, there'd be quite a few Jedi Knights who would be perfectly happy with it.

Over the years, Anakin could learn to fit in, no doubt. He's an adaptive boy, hard working, he could learn to make do in whatever place he was put in. But would he be happy, conforming to those ancient moulds that shape Jedi Initiates to Padawans to Knights…?

Qui-Gon looks up as the sound of boots on metal creating echoes through the ship – moments later, Obi-Wan Kenobi walks into the kitchen. "Food," the man says, hauling in a plastoid crate of what look like recent purchases in and dropping it in front of Qui-Gon. "I don't have time to cook today, so, eat whatever's on that – I got more stuff to haul in."

"I can cook," Qui-Gon offers, even as he peers into the crate and Anakin lifts his head, curious.

There's an assortment of groceries in the crate – bread, buns, few packets of water soluble dry goods such as milk supplements and meal grain… things that Kenobi can't grow on the ship itself, Qui-Gon muses, as he sees that there are no fresh fruits or greens whatsoever on the crate.

"If you'd like," Kenobi says, giving him a considering look. "Don't touch anything marked with a red flag, or the packets marked for the station or – oh fuck it, MD-6!" he shouts towards the fish tanks. "Get MD-2 for me!"

"Yes sir!" the droid in the dining-area-turned-into-a-greenhouse pipes up and then speeds off. Moment later, another monitor droid speeds into the kitchen, almost overshooting Kenobi and flying into a wall before the man stops it with a hand.

"Sir?" the droid asks, in more feminine tones than the other monitor droids.

"Follow him around for a bit and point out the edible plants around the ship," Kenobi says, pointing at Qui-Gon. "If he wants something and it's viable, you can cut some for him in moderation."

"I could just use what's in the cold storage," Qui-Gon says, worried.

"Fresh food is better," Kenobi says and snags a bun from the crate of groceries, stuffing it into his mouth. "Try not to poison anybody."

And then he's gone again, stomping away with heel-heavy steps.

Qui-Gon sighs and gets up. "I guess we're making a salad," he says while Anakin bounces to his feet.

"I wanna see," the boy says and then waves a hand at MD-2. "Also, hello there, MD-2!"

"Hello little sir," the droid answers, swinging from side to side in simile of a wave and then turns to Qui-Gon. "Where would you like to start?"

"Salad greens," Qui-Gon says, and bobbing in agreement the droid turns to lead them away.

The salad turns out far more complicated than it necessarily had to be. There's a lot of plants on the ship that are edible, but MD-2 is very frugal in cutting them, making distressed noises whenever Qui-Gon asks for more than one or two leaf's worth – so he leaves it be, and goes for wider variation instead of quantity of a certain type. The resulting salad is rather messy as result, with no dominating flavour to it, but it's… edible, Qui-Gon thinks somewhat wryly.

Kenobi, when he stops by the kitchen later on while in process of hauling in a box of what look like chemical bottles towards the labs, just arches an eyebrow at the results – and keeps on walking, shaking his head as he goes.

"I think it's interesting," Anakin says comfortingly, while crunching on bits of leaves.

"Thank you Anakin," Qui-Gon sighs, and eats his salad.

* * *

 

The ship remains abuzz with activity for most of that day, as Kenobi restocks his stores and empties out the superfluous sums of produce his plants produce. Apparently they'd be processed into ration packets in the station – it's a source of small bit of income for the man.

"It's the Greenhouse's main export – ration packets and dry goods and such," the agriculturist explains in passing. "As well as seeds and such of course, we export those by the literal ton, but ration packets pay better."

"That makes sense," Qui-Gon answers, even as he tries to wrap his head around the idea that a branch of the Jedi Order has an _export_. It does make sense – the upkeep of station like the Greenhouse would take money, but still…

After living all his life with the notion abstinence, the concept of making a _living_ as a _Jedi_ makes no sense to him. For him, the Order had always provided. For Kenobi, for the space station… they need to make their own money, to maintain their systems.

"I mean we do get donations, stipends and the Republic gives us grants," Kenobi says and shrugs fatalistically. "But the grants are getting smaller each year. They're not enough to make means, anymore."

And so, Kenobi and other AgriCorps members with their own ships have to worry about income as well. Aside from selling produce, Kenobi sometimes takes passengers, and he hauls cargo whenever he can. And, from what Qui-Gon can figure out, he's not only in charge of his own' ship's maintenance, the AgriCorps offer him little monetary aid with that, but he also paid for the ship, from his own pocket.

"How did you make the money for it?" Anakin asks curiously. "I mean, before you had the ship?"

"However I could," Kenobi shrugs. "I worked in a tourist shop on the station, I advised people on their gardens over holonet, I helped incoming and outgoing ships with their hydroponics system, and so on and so on. Took me five years, but it was worth it," he says and pats a nearby bulkhead with great deal of satisfaction.

The man is bit more talkative now, Qui-Gon muses. Something's… not exactly changed, but Kenobi isn't quite as tightly shut down now. He explains things more readily and with actual detail, and doesn't seem terribly annoyed about it either. When Anakin asks about the ships engines, he says without pause; "ST-443 hyper drive – it's not the best, but it keeps me flying. The engine core is a retrofitted headon-3.4 – don't look at me like that, it _works_ ," Kenobi says when Anakin arches his eyebrows.

"I didn't even know they made a 3.4," Anakin answers, frowning. "Headon-3 was, what, fifty years ago? I bet you can't even find any spare parts for it."

"I know, I know," Kenobi says and waves a dismissive hand at him. "It still works and that's enough for me."

Kenobi's brusque manners and his sometimes frankly _too honest_ ways make him a very natural teacher. He's factual, brisk and yet clear enough to explain complicated systems easily and he doesn't treat Anakin like a child. He might forego the more technical language for the boy's benefit, but he doesn't slow down, doesn't soften his voice – doesn't oversimplify the actual concepts he's explaining. Now that Anakin knows he's not going to be reprimanded for it, the boy leans into it eagerly.

"Plants need oxygen too – most everything does," Kenobi says with a wave of his hand. "In the hydroponics systems, the water flows only on the bottom and the roots hang over it – they get enough air to manage. In the aquaponics systems I have a mess of drip systems and bell siphons – they fill out and empty periodically. But if you just stick a plant in a pot of water and let it sit, it tends die – it gets no air and with no circulation on the water, it rots."

"Ohh, so that's why I shouldn't just stick the plants straight into the fishbowl?" Anakin asks.

"You can if you have air circulation in – like the bubbling in my tank, it adds in oxygen to the water. But if it's like your system, no air pump in it, I wouldn't recommend it."

"Oh. Do fish need air? Do my fish need air – are they going to die because I don't have air pump?"

"No – your fish are pretty hardy, and they get air when water drips down from the planter box – it's just enough agitation to feed air into the system."

Kenobi makes it seem so effortless. The man is teaching the boy concepts Qui-Gon doesn't know or understand, of course, but even if it was something they both knew – say, principles of the Force – Qui-Gon gets the feeling that Kenobi's explanation on the matter would be just as quick, simple and easily understandable – while Qui-Gon…

The Jedi Master bows his head a little and smiles wryly at himself before shaking his head and turning away, leaving them to it.

He's still not sure what Yoda is really on about with this whole observation mission, what he's supposed to learn. If it's something akin to _Qui-Gon Jinn, you're a terrible teacher_ , well…

It's not something he didn't already know.

* * *

 

Anakin's health exam is later that day. Kenobi takes them out of the ship and through the Greenhouse's various elevators to the space station’s infirmary, where a soft-spoken bothan doctor is waiting for them.

"Specialist Kenobi," the bothan says, bowing his head. "A pleasure, as always. How have you been?"

"Better than the last time I was here, I promise," Kenobi snorts with a shake of his head and then bows back. "Master Zsre. These are Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker, as promised. I sent in in my preliminary blood tests and the samples I took. I hope they made it here alright."

"Mm-hmm, and we have analysed them further," the bothan Master says and peers at Anakin somewhat sympathetically. "You, young man, have quite a bit of injections ahead of you."

"Um?!" Anakin answers, alarmed.

"Yes, quite," Master Zsre says, nodding. "But first, a general health exam. Come this way, please, and we'll get right on it."

"Um, um," Anakin flails, stepping closer to Qui-Gon and grabbing a hold of his cloak edge. "Um – I'm good, I promise – "

Kenobi frowns and looks up at Qui-Gon who sighs and crouches down. "It's alright, Anakin, nothing bad is going to happen," he says softly. "We just want to make sure you're alright. And you need your vaccinations, otherwise you'll remain susceptible to diseases that are perfectly preventable – some of those diseases _deadly_ ," he says gently.

"It hurts a little bit," Kenobi says frankly. "And the examinations can be bit humiliating. But afterwards you'll be better secured against future illnesses," he says and then runs a hand over his beard, giving Anakin a considering look. "You'll be _insured_ , even."

Qui-Gon frowns, glancing up at him. Anakin looks up too, his eyes widening a little and then frowning. "So…" he murmurs slowly and looks at Qui-Gon. "I won't get sick, if I get these vaccinations?"

"Not with the illnesses they vaccinate against," Qui-Gon says and squeeze's the boy's hand. "It's alright."

Anakin nods slowly and then looks at the bothan doctor. Then he nods. "Okay, then," he says. "I guess I… yeah, okay."

He takes a deep breath and then, with the same sort of confidence he faced the Boonta race, marches up to the bothan doctor. "I'm ready."

"Good, good," Master Zsre says and nods. "Right this way then, this won't take long."

Qui-Gon is left standing alone with Kenobi, who shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and looks at him.

"He's probably going to be given prescription," Kenobi says, considering him. "The kid has some radiation exposure – probably from the pod racing you mentioned."

"… ah," Qui-Gon answers, frowning. "I didn't know that."

"I should've told you, sorry," Kenobi says and looks away. "I noticed it when I was doing your blood tests before. He's also got high blood toxicity, probably for the same reasons, and will probably need medicine for that too. And someone's given him hard stims sometime in his past."

Qui-Gon swallows. "Stims." Someone had drugged Anakin with _stims_ at some point?

"Might've not been that bad," Kenobi shrugs. "In outer rim planets, stims tend to be cheaper than painkillers, you know. And people in his station wouldn't have much in way of money."

For a moment Qui-Gon says nothing, wondering when Kenobi had figured it out, what had given it away. He'd not… exactly been hiding Anakin's past, but he knows very well how such things can affect a person's standing – he hadn't even told the Jedi High Council where Anakin really came from. Tatooine, sure, but they didn't know he was a slave there, at least he hadn't told them.

Anakin doesn't act like a normal free boy of his age, though. Too humble, polite and painfully eager to please. And, if you keep a close eye on him, it's hard to miss how afraid of failure the boy is. And it's not the shame that frightens him – no, it's deeply ingrained fear of prospective punishment, which is far worse.

Kenobi must've known for a while – in hindsight, some of the explanations he's given to the boy only make sense if he knew the boy doesn't know the most basic things most everyone else in the galaxy would know. And yet he's made no comment about it – hadn't altered his behaviour in the least.

Qui-Gon sighs. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he says. "I thought it best to try and…" he trails off, not sure how to put it. "To put it behind us."

Kenobi nods slowly, turning to him. "Is that why the High Council is having such a damn hard time accepting him?" he asks, his tone somewhat flat.

"I didn't tell them either – though some must've guessed it," Qui-Gon sighs and shakes his head. "It's most likely part of the reason – not necessarily due to any perceived lack of worth, but because such a childhood makes for a… difficult future."

There are horrors in Anakin's past Qui-Gon has no idea how to address or deal with. The Masters of the Jedi High Council might've very well felt some trauma lurking in Anakin's mind, and it made them wary.

"And of course, Anakin is old, established in his ways and ideals and has no Temple background," Qui-Gon adds. "He doesn't know the first thing about the Force – whoever teaches him will have to teach him from ground up. There are other issues as well."

Qui-Gon himself, for one.

Kenobi watches him silently for a long while, a hint of a frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. "Whoever teaches him," he repeats, his voice echoing with cool disbelief.

Qui-Gon looks down and shakes his head slowly. "When I brought Anakin to the Jedi Temple, I hoped he'd be tested, admitted into the Temple and placed in a crèche, to in future hopefully be selected by a suitable master," he says quietly. "It wasn't my intention originally to take him as my own Padawan Learner. But they declined his admittance, so…"

Kenobi is frowning fully at him now. "So you… didn't want to take even him as your student?" he asks with something like outraged disbelief.

Qui-Gon sighs and rubs at the skin between his brows. Are they addressing the bantha in the room now, then, in a infirmary waiting hall? "I hoped he'd be taught, but… not by me, no," he says and looks up at Kenobi. "But when the council refused to accept him, I felt I must. Anakin is strong in the Force, he already uses it in ways that takes _years_ for most Jedi to master. Any day now, he will figure out more visible ways of utilising it. Do you know what happens to _visibly_ Force sensitive children in slavery?"

Kenobi swallows and looks away sharply. "Yeah," he says quietly, a terrible weight on the word.

Qui-Gon nods wearily. "Anakin is free now, I saw to it, but he's vulnerable – and moreover, the boy's a genius. Outside any sort of system that might shelter him and look after his interests… how long until he catches the eye of someone looking to make a profit out of people like him?"

Kenobi says nothing for a while, staring unseeingly at nothing, thinking. "Do you think the Jedi Council is hoping to push him into AgriCorps?" he asks then, turning to Qui-Gon.

"I can't say I understand the Jedi High Council's wishes. Maybe – though frankly I don't think that was the point," Qui-Gon admits. "Honestly I think they just want to bring me down a peg because I stood up to them."

"Tch, that I can understand," Kenobi murmurs and strokes his beard, thoughtful. For a moment he looks like he might ask finally – but in the end he turns to look away again. "So… do _you_ want the kid to go into AgriCorps?"

"It might be preferable," Qui-Gon admits quietly. Anakin already exhibits such excitement over it – he'd be happy there. It's not quite as thrilling as being Jedi Knight, but one can't deny that the boy seems to greatly enjoy the idea of Agriculture, and he's very keen on learning. And the AgriCorps do great deal of good for many worlds, Qui-Gon has always known that but the understanding is a little more concrete now.

Anakin could become a great knight, certainly. But like Kenobi had, he could also become a great farmer and gardener.

Kenobi presses his lips together tightly for a moment and says nothing. Qui-Gon watches him wondering if he's made the man angry again – but he looks more confused than anything.

"Being in AgriCorps doesn't mean being safe," Kenobi says finally, somewhat tightly. "Jedi Service Corps members are kidnapped three times as often as Jedi Knight Order members are, you know."

Qui-Gon frowns. "I… didn't know that," he admits quietly.

"Sometimes we manage to get them back – sometimes…" Kenobi shakes his head and looks around. "Safest place for AgriCorp members is right here, on the Greenhouse. But we work outside it, in terrible conditions, in war torn, famine stricken worlds, often in the Outer Rim… where temptation is high. And a trained Force sensitives fetch quite the price on the slave market."

Qui-Gon bows his head a little. "Have you…" he starts to ask but then trails away.

Kenobi turns to him. "Not me – but I have a ship with guest quarters. Guess who gets retrieval duty, when young AgriCorps members go missing?"

Qui-Gon doesn't say nothing and Kenobi eyes him silently for a while, gauging his expression. "Still, probably safer then being out there alone," Kenobi says and looks away. "Do you want me to look into it, his admittance into the AgriCorps?"

It's spoken simply – but there's something about Kenobi's tone that makes it sound cold, forbidding.

"You don't approve," Qui-Gon says quietly. "You've seen how Anakin is – he'd probably be happy here."

Kenobi draws breath and blows it out slowly and then shakes his head. "Oh fuck this," he mutters and visibly steels himself, his eyes growing hard. "Qui-Gon Jinn, why didn't you accept me as your Padawan learner?"

There it is.

Qui-Gon smiles slowly, wryly. "Because, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm not fit to teach anyone."


	9. Chapter 9

Anakin rubs at his arm, wincing a little. There had been a _lot_ of injections, just like the doctor had promised – and then they had to keep him for a bit to see that he didn't have a bad reaction to anything, which he didn't. Now, even with the smear of bacta on it, the injection point sort of aches, a pulsing, present pain.

But now he won't get sick. At least, with not some diseases. Doctor Zsre had shown him the list of the stuff the vaccinations he got protected him against – and a lot of them sounded completely unheard of to him. The others…

He'd had Ratten Pox when he'd been a kid – he'd been sick for a month. And he thinks he'd heard his mother say something about the Red Malady – a sickness she got at some point, when he'd been really young. She'd been terrified he'd get it too, but it was something that only adults got, apparently. There'd been stuff on that list he'd heard about too – stuff his friends had gotten. Stuff some of his friends had died of.

In the slave quarters getting sick badly usually meant one thing.

Now, Anakin wouldn't. He got vaccinated. He was _insured_ … at least for the next five years. Some of the stuff apparently lasted longer, but some had to be renewed in time – he'd have to get more vaccinations, to keep himself safe. Still, for five years, he was protected.

He kinda wishes he could let mom know about this. She always got so worried about him getting sick.

"Does everyone get vaccinated like this?" Anakin asks, as they head back towards the ship.

"In the Republic, yes," Qui-Gon says while reading the package of the medicine Anakin had been given – he has to take one every day for month, because he's been exposed to stuff and has to get it out of his system.

"Wherever they have the money anyway," Kenobi says with a shrug. "Here you get them for free because we're part of the Republic Health Care System, technically – in places it doesn't cover you have to pay for it. And the further out from the Galactic Core you go, the more expensive everything is."

"Why doesn't it cover everyplace?" Anakin asks, frowning. "Shouldn't everyone get medicine?"

"Local governments, politics, money," Kenobi says.

"The galaxy is complicated," Qui-Gon says with a sigh and pushes the package into his pocket. "And the systems that govern it are even more so."

"Aka, local governments, politics, money," Kenobi rolls his eyes. "Everything has a cost. Not everyone wants to pay – and the RHCS costs a lot of money in the worlds further out. Somewhere in Coruscant someone decided the costs outweigh the benefits, so, no medicine for everyone."

Anakin frowns up at them. They feel… tense. And awkward. And they're very pointedly not looking at each other. Did they have a fight? Rubbing at his shoulder again, Anakin looks up ahead. "That sucks," he says.

Qui-Gon sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes. "Yeah, it does," he agrees wearily.

They don't talk much more the entire way back to the ship, where Kenobi hesitates a moment and then stomps off and to a lab. Anakin can't tell if he's mad or not, but he gets the impression that if Kenobi could, he'd probably slam the door on his way.

"Is he mad at you?" Anakin asks quietly, looking up to Qui-Gon.

"I'm not entirely sure," Qui-Gon admits and shakes his head. "Never you mind that Ani, I'll talk it through with him later."

Anakin frowns a little. Not his business then, okay, he thinks, and shrugs his shoulders. "Well, when you do say thank you for me, for the vaccinations, okay?" he says. "I don't think I said it."

"I did, but I will tell him again, I promise," Qui-Gon sighs and pats his shoulder. "Shall we go have a look at your fish?"

* * *

 

Kenobi stays in the lab for the rest of the evening, only coming out to go to the fresher and then going right back in. It's making the droids agitated too, Anakin notes – the hovering monitor droids swing and whirl in the air in distress and every once in a while they'll peek on the lab and then speed off hurriedly. So, yeah, Kenobi must be mad about something.

Qui-Gon just won't say _what_.

Not that Anakin can't guess.

When Kenobi finally comes out properly, it's late in the evening and time to eat. It's… awkward, to watch him and Qui-Gon sidestep around each other as they make something to eat – the resulting food is good but eating is just awful because how tense everyone is, how Qui-Gon keeps looking at Kenobi all sort of apologetic while Kenobi doesn't look his way and – just, ugh.

He kind of wants to know more about the health care stuff and why exactly it's too expensive to cover everyplace – well he can figure out why, the Outer Rim is the Outer Rim, but he still wants to know… but he doesn't feel like asking right now. The silence is terrible – but breaking it would probably be worse.

In the end, he eats his food as fast as he can and then announces, "I'm tired. Can I go to bed early, please?"

"Yes, of course," Qui-Gon says and smiles awkwardly at him. "Go right ahead."

Anakin nods and after putting his plate into the cleaner, he heads off – privately wishing he had moved the fish bowl into his cabin before. It sits on the kitchen table, and he kinda feels sorry for his fish, having to endure Qui-Gon and Kenobi being all weird.

After visit to the fresher to wash his teeth, Anakin heads to his cabin and sits on the lower bunk bed, rubbing at his shoulder. He imagines he can feel the vaccines inside him, flowing in his blood, going everywhere – covering him in an invisible, protective shield. That's probably not how it works at all, but he likes the idea.

He's _insured._ And not in a way that makes companies pay for him if he happened to die or anything – but against stuff that might hurt him while he's still alive. He's _protected_ now.

Sighing, Anakin lays back on the bunk bed and stretches out. How much would the vaccines he got cost on Tatooine? Probably more than they made in a year working in Watto's shop. Probably more than they'd ever owned.

It's so unfair, that Core worlds get all this stuff, water and plants and medicine. Tatooine is supposed to be a Republic planet too, isn't it? And slavery is illegal in Republic too, but who the hell cares on or about Tatooine?

Anakin frowns at the bottom of the middle bunk bed and then turns to lie on his side, to look at the plant wall across from the beds. It's still kinda early, the lights are still on and the ship hasn't yet switched over to nightcycle. He still doesn't know all the names of the stuff on the wall, but there's stuff here that's growing in kitchen too, and he's seen Kenobi snip stuff off them to throw into the food. The ones with big, heart shaped leaves, they taste weird but good but the sharp, wrinkly looking leaves are his favourite. Qui-Gon put some of them into Anakin's tea that morning and they taste kind of… _cool_ even in warm drink.

… he wants to know what Qui-Gon and Kenobi are talking about. They got weird while he was with the doctor, so maybe they're talking about him. Did he do something wrong? Maybe the medicine thing was a bother for them. Especially since he had got given medicine and maybe that's a nuisance.

Anakin eyes the plants for a moment. He probably shouldn't. Qui-Gon wouldn't approve. Kenobi probably wouldn't care though – and if it's about him, doesn't he have the right to know?

After moment of staring at the plants, Anakin sits up. He'll just… have a little listen, and if it's not about him, then he won't listen in. That'd be okay, right, just… just checking?

Right.

Anakin takes a breath and then stares hard at the direction of the kitchen, narrowing his eyes and concentrating so hard that his vision starts dark around the edges. It doesn't always work, sometimes no matter how hard he tries he can't get it to happen, but sometimes, if he does it just right, when he concentrates just hard enough…

"…sure it's none of my damn business," Kenobi's voice mutters, first faint but then growing slightly stronger.

"You asked," Qui-Gon answers.

"Yeah, well, I don't care about being privy to your damn pity party," Kenobi answers and there's a terrible clanging noise which takes Anakin a moment to identify as him pushing his chair back, hard enough to bang the chair legs against the floor. "You don't see yourself fit as teacher, fine, whatever. You might want to tell the kid that, before you leave him in the curb too."

Anakin's heart skips a beat and his vision clears for a moment before he concentrates quickly again, staring at the wall between him and the two Jedi hard enough to nearly pierce right through it.

"I'm – not going to," Qui-Gon says and sighs, it sounds annoyed. "I can't until – "

"Until you know someone's going to pick your damn slack for you, yeah, okay," Kenobi answers. He sounds weird, Anakin thinks. Not angry, though the words are angry. He doesn't _feel_ angry either. Just sort of…

"Kenobi – "

"It would've been nice to know, back then, you know, before I spent oh I don't even _know_ how many years trying to live up to standards which, apparently, don't even exists," Kenobi says. "It's all complete bullshit, but it would've been easier to live with than, _you're an aggressive, proud child, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the AgriCorps will be good for you._ "

"And from what I've seen, they were," Qui-Gon says, little firmer now. "You seem to have done well for yourself."

"And that makes it okay?" Kenobi demands. "Do you have _any_ idea how hard I had to work – "

"No, I don't," Qui-Gon says, frustrated. "I'm sure it's been harder than I can imagine. But as I look at you know, I know you are doing better now… than you would be had you been my student all these years."

"That's –" Kenobi starts and then lets out a frustrated breath. "How the hell would you know that?"

Qui-Gon scoffs and judging by the sound of it he too pushes his chair back. Anakin winces a little but doesn't let his concentration break, listening – eavesdropping – harder than he's ever tried to before.

"Because every time I've taught, I've made things objectively worse for my students."

"You mean Xanatos."

Anakin frowns – that's a new name for him.

"Him, and everyone else I've ever tried to teach. Do you know how Jedi Masters are generally conducted into taking Padawan learners?"

"I think at this point it's fucking obvious I don't and never will," Kenobi mutters, but he sounds suspicious.

"When possible, a new Master is paired with a Senior Padawan. It's proven to be benefit for both – the Master gets a student who is already mostly trained and thus isn't as hard work as a wholly new Padawan would be, while the Senior Padawan gets experience working with Jedi other than his Master. My first student was like that – Feemor was already twenty and highly trained, when he came to me."

Kenobi says nothing and feeling weirdly detached from his own body, Anakin tugs his legs up and hugs them for warmth, frowning.

"His first – his _real_ – Master was a more casual brand of Jedi, she let Feemor learn what he wanted to learn and at his own pace. Feemor was a good student by all accounts, an excellent young Jedi – but not very… ordered. He was often late, got lost in research binges, and he wasn't terribly keen on lightsaber practice, a field in which I considered myself an expert in. He was attentive, but.. sloppy, I felt."

"Oh boy," Kenobi mutters.

Qui-Gon hums in coolly amused agreement. "So I thought, in my great wisdom, to instil some discipline into his life, to expound on the importance of being on time and doing your duty as it is ordered. I don't necessarily consider myself pedantic when it comes to being organized, but in face of his more easygoing ways I thought it would be of… benefit to him to learn a bit of structure."

There's a moment of silence. "I was… unnecessarily strict on him," Qui-Gon admits quietly. "It hadn't been that long since I gained my title as Master and his easygoing nature seemed like he did not take my rank seriously. In part perhaps I thought I had to… prove my rank." There's a breath. "He endured my tutelage for two years before attaining knighthood. By that time, I think the damage I did to him was nearly permanent."

"What happened to him?" Kenobi asks quietly.

"He went from a very outgoing and easy-mannered young man to a withdrawn and sullen Knight, who can't work well with anyone," Qui-Gon Jinn. "And I went from somewhat uncertain new Master to thinking I'd had great success with him, that I'd installed a much-needed sense of duty and discipline into his casual ways and thus made him a much better Knight than he would have otherwise been. As far as I was concerned, I was on the fast track to become one of the better teachers in the Order."

"Well, that's just wonderful," Kenobi mutters.

"And then there was Xanatos – and he was my student from the start. I searched him, found him, on my word he was admitted into the Order," Qui-Gon says and scoffs. "He was everything anyone would like in a student. Brilliant, strong, _driven_ to succeed. Knight material if I ever, in my height of experience and wisdom, had seen one. The moment talks begun of him becoming old enough to become a Padawan Learner, I stepped up and made my claim."

"Judging by the end of it, I can already tell how that went," Kenobi scoffs.

"Twelve years I taught Xanatos," Qui-Gon says. "With every intention of making him the best Knight of the Order. I was sure I'd succeed too, that I was succeeding. I didn't need to be strict with Xanatos – he was strict enough on himself. And he was so determined to become the best. I encouraged it – and in the meanwhile, made myself wholly blind to all of his faults. In way, I most likely encouraged each and everyone of them."

"And then he fell," Kenobi says and Anakin lifts his head a little, blinking with surprise.

"There were… other reasons for that. I allowed him to maintain contact with his family outside the Order and there were incidents, it's… relevant but I don't feel like going over it. Had I been a better teacher – ironically, had I been stricter with Xanatos – perhaps the temptation wouldn’t have been able to take root. But yes," Qui-Gon says wearily. "He fell to the Darkside."

There's a moment of silence. "How long ago was it, before we met?"

"Nine years," Qui-Gon admits.

"… nine?" Kenobi asks with something like disbelief. "Nine years before me, that makes you… you were, what, in your thirties when you took Xanatos as your Padawan?"

"Twenty-nine," Qui-Gon agrees. "I was twenty six when I was given my title as Master."

"That's pretty young, isn't it?" Kenobi says quietly.

"Hence my inflated sense of ego and arrogance," Qui-Gon scoffs. "After Xanatos I spent… years trying to figure out what I did wrong. In those years I watched Feemor grow increasingly cold and aloof in the Order, spiralling down on the path I set him on. In those years I occasionally was pushed into teaching classes – and I was never anyone's favourite teacher… except perhaps when it came to lightsaber practice. A friend of mine told me I am either too strict or too forgiving – there’s no in-between. And I have found it to be true."

Kenobi says nothing and Qui-Gon sighs. "Why I didn't take you as my Padawan Learner," he says. "It's because you reminded me of the worst parts in Xanatos and the best parts in Feemor. Most young initiates do. They're by nature excitable and driven to prove themselves and I react very poorly to it. And I knew how I'd treat you – I knew I'd be strict with you, I'd be severe. I knew I could never fully trust you. That wasn't ever on you, but it was still a reality you would've had to live with, as my Padawan. And I know neither you, nor any other student they tried to push at me, deserves such treatment from one who is supposed to teach them."

There's a longer silence now, tense and uneasy.

"I'm sorry it's not a satisfying answer but it is as close to the truth as I can get. I am not a good teacher," Qui-Gon says simply. "The man you are right now – I could have never taught you to be like this. In all likelihood I would have only ruined all potential you ever had. Or I would have driven you into a Fall – in either case you wouldn't be like this."

"... and what, precisely, do you think I am right now?" Kenobi asks, his voice strange, strained.

"A better teacher than I am by far – and much likely a much wiser man as well."

Anakin waits, holding his breath, to hear what Kenobi answers. His mind is reeling with what he's heard – he'd completely forgotten he wasn't supposed to keep on listening if it wasn't about him, which it isn't – but it also kind of is because Qui-Gon is supposed to be his teacher, at least that's what they're hoping will happen, but if Qui-Gon thinks he's a bad one then… then it matters to him too, right?

In the end Kenobi doesn't say anything. The sound of his boots banging on metal crating echoes in the ship as he walks back into the labs. He feels agitated and confused and shaken. Qui-Gon feels…

 _Alone_.

Anakin blinks and shakes his head to get his hearing back into his body, feeling a little light headed for a moment before his senses settle. He stares for a moment at the wall – without trying to stare right through it this time – before looking away, at the plants instead. There's water bubbling in the pipes, which sounds very loud all of sudden.

Anakin doesn't know what to do. What should he do – should he do anything? He doesn't know. Turns out he doesn't know anything at all.

Outside his cabin he can hear Qui-Gon, heading into his. For the first time, Anakin can hear him closing the door between himself and the rest of the ship. Little later, he can feel Qui-Gon falling into meditation.

Anakin hugs himself, frowning at the plants, feeling confused and lost.

All of sudden the _Verdant_ feels very cold.


	10. Chapter 10

When Obi-Wan heads to the kitchen later that night – way past midnight both by the ship's and the station's time, the last thing he expects to see is Anakin Skywalker sitting there, on the floor, by the fish tanks. All of the fish tanks – the kid has even taken the small one off the kitchen table where it had been pushed to the wall to get it out of the way. The bowl sits on the floor beside the kid, its quiet bubbling nearly inaudible next to the systems of the big tank.

Obi-Wan stops to look at him just for a moment, running a hand over his face – he _really_ doesn't have the energy for this. Then he decides to just ignore the kid and do what he'd meant to do – and get himself a drink.

He doesn't drink often – not often enough to keep himself stocked with liquor anyway. The only bottle of anything alcoholic he has is a left over from a visit by Hahsona – a bottle of Maleisse, a wine far too sweet for Obi-Wan's tastes but… it would do, for this.

The boy on the floor watches him fetch the bottle from one of the cupboard. It's warm but hell if he cares Obi-Wan decides and pours himself a glass.

"Is Qui-Gon going to leave me here?"

Damnit.

Obi-Wan doesn't answer immediately, taking a gulp of the wine first. Not nearly strong enough, he thinks with dismay and wonders if he should've cracked open a bag of leaf after all. It doesn't have the kick or edge of alcohol but it definitely would've made this bit more manageable.

"You were listening?" Obi-Wan asks. He hadn't felt the kid – during the whole sordid discussion the kid had been in his cabin, as promised. But then, they're all Force sensitives here so what the hell does that matter.

 "I know I shouldn't have, but yeah," Anakin says and shifts where he's sitting – tugging his legs to his chest and hugging them. "I don't want to be a bother," he mutters.

Obi-Wan says nothing for a moment, drinking his wine and wishing he'd just stayed in the damn lab – or better yet, gone to his cabin and just stayed there. Why the fuck is it his responsibility to reassure this kid?

Because Qui-Gon Jinn is a complete fucking moron, that's why.

"It's not your fault," Obi-Wan sighs and turns to face the kid. He looks pathetic, sitting there, huddling in on himself. Surrounded by the things he likes the most, as far as Obi-Wan's ship goes anyway – water and fish and plants.

Qui-Gon is not wrong about something – Anakin is better fit for the AgriCorps than most Initiates. Put this kid into a lesson about seed germination and he'd probably have a blast – whereas do the same with a temple-raised brat and they'll cry themselves to sleep that night.

Doesn't look very happy right now, though.

"Hell, kid," Obi-Wan sighs and takes the glass and the bottle and goes to him, falling to sit cross-legged in front of him on the floor. "The fact that Qui-Gon Jinn has more issues than the fucking Coruscant Chronicle is not your fault. You just had the bad luck to get caught in between, that's all."

"Still affects me," Anakin says faintly against his knees – and that's the thing, isn't it.

Qui-Gon Jinn's problems aren't their fault – but alas, they still affect them.

Obi-Wan sighs and sets the bottle down, taking another drink, hoping to get drunk and _soon_ please. Not very good example to put in front of a nine year old, but at this point of his life Anakin has probably seen worse things than stress drinking.

"Is he right?" Anakin asks quietly. "Is he a bad teacher?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I'm sure I wouldn't know," he mutters – except he does know. He's watched Qui-Gon with Anakin long enough to know the man has no idea what he's really doing. It's been, what, twenty one years now since the man had last had a Padawan? And that Padawan had been Xanatos Du Crion too. What experience Qui-Gon has ever had, it's long since evaporated and he doesn't treat Anakin like a student, not even like attentive listener.

He treats the kid more like a father would treat a son. Before Obi-Wan had watched it and felt just more and more bitter, but that's… that's not how a Jedi Master ought to be treating their prospective student, is it?

Is that how Qui-Gon had treated Xanatos too, with oh so much care and pride and like the bastard could do no wrong? All the while expecting him to become the best Knight in the damn Order. Obi-Wan rather doubts it's enough to make someone fall Darkside, he's seen enough things to know how important parental love can be, but still… they're Jedi.

It doesn't work like that for them.

"I'm sorry," Anakin says.

"What?" Obi-Wan asks, looking down at him, confused.

"Because of him you didn't become a Jedi Knight," Anakin says and looks down, not meeting his eyes. "I guess it makes sense that you're angry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry he didn't teach you. I still want him to teach me, though."

Obi-Wan frowns at him for a moment, trying to catch up with whatever the kid is thinking. Then he looks away, down at the wine glass, turning it idly in his fingers.

"Do you really?" Obi-Wan asks. "You want to become a Jedi Knight?"

Anakin hesitates at that, frowning. "I promised my mom I'd become a Jedi," he says then. "And I want Master Qui-Gon to teach me. I'm sorry he was mean to you but… but he hasn't been mean to him. And I like him. He's nice to me."

Obi-Wan stares at the kid, the way Anakin reaches for the fish bowl – wondering privately if it was maybe the first gift anyone had given to the kid. Shaking his head, Obi-Wan lifts the wine glass again, taking a deep gulp.

"It wasn't because of him I didn't become a Jedi Knight," Obi-Wan says finally and lowers the glass with a sigh. "Qui-Gon Jinn was far from the only Master who rejected me. He was just the Last One."

And it's easier to pin blame on the one person, in the end, to make them the villain in your personal tragedy – than to accept that they were just one of many, and maybe there was a reason so many had passed him by. Obi-Wan had had exhibition duels in front of dozens of Jedi Masters for _years_ before Qui-Gon had said that final no. It was just… easier to pretend otherwise.

It's the same for most of AgriCorps members, or Service Corps members in general. Some rise above it and Obi-Wan has always privately felt so jealous of that, but for most of them… it's easier, to have someone to blame.

Someone other than yourself anyway.

Obi-Wan shakes his head and looks at Anakin. "He is a complete fucking moron, though, and not just because he doesn't know how to teach apparently," he says and scoffs. "Decades and apparently the venerable Master Jinn hasn't deigned to take a lesson in teaching. I guess it's easier to angst about it than to actually _do_ something about it."

Okay, there's the wine, finally working. And there's him – pinning the blame on Qui-Gon Jinn once more. Hooray for personal growth!

"Huh?" Anakin asks, blinking up at him. "People teach… teaching?

Obi-Wan sighs. "There are actual _universities_ about this shit," he says. "Hell, we hold classes about teaching methods on Greenhouse too. We have to know – most of what we do in AgriCorps involves _teaching_ people. It's not like we can just go in, establish agricultural system and fly off again – no, people have to know how to use what we give them. Give people a crop and a field and they farm it to death – teach them how to farm themselves and they'll make more fields, develop their own methods. It's just… common sense."

Anakin eyes him warily. "Okay," he says slowly. "Maybe the Jedi Knights don't do that, though?"

Obi-Wan scowls at that and then – then he thinks about it.

Jedi Knights' primary function is diplomacy, keeping peace – negotiating treaties and in worst case, dealing with threats to the Republic. Qui-Gon himself is known for his political negotiations, isn't he? He's a diplomat and a fighter. Diplomats and fighters would get different training… than people who are brought in to help others into a better way of life. And after a Jedi initiate becomes a Padawan, they no longer learn in classes at all, do they? They learn from their Master. Does that involve teaching the student to one day be a teacher themselves?

Looking at Qui-Gon now, Obi-Wan rather doubts it, and for the first time Obi-Wan wonders who was Qui-Gon's Master. He would've had to have one, after all, to become a Knight himself – so someone taught him, one on one, to be what he was.

"Maybe they don't do that, yeah," Obi-Wan says and frowns. Somehow, he'd never even thought about it – that maybe the Service Corp members might've gotten _better_ education than Knights in their apprentice system. How utterly _bizarre_.

Anakin watches him, his head tilted back. "Why don't you like being in AgriCorps?" he asks then. "Why is it so bad? You have your own ship and all these plants, all this water, and everything and you do good things, don't you?"

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to state the damn obvious – because he was _supposed_ to be a Knight! But then he stops, frowning.  That's the expected answer, the ingrained response. It's what the wash out initiates say, the would-be-Padawans, the kids still complaining about how it had to be a mistake, they should've been a Knight, not a farmer or a doctor or a researcher or whatever else they're slated to become.

But time wears that away, until it becomes little more than a platitude. They're still bitter, each and every one of them in their own way, but after twelve years, you tend to wisen up. It's been a while since Obi-Wan honestly and truly wanted to leave AgriCorps and become a Knight. It's been years, now. Now they share those stories and lament on the loss of potential just because it's a habit more than anything. They're the washouts; it's what they do.

"Um," Obi-Wan says, frowning and looking down. "It's not," he says finally. "It's like – have you ever…" he trails off, looking at the kid in front of him – all of nine years old. "Never mind," he says. "It's not bad and I do like being in AgriCorps, I wouldn't change my life now. But there was a time when I wanted to become a Knight. It kind of lingers."

"I don't get it," Anakin says, frowning.

"You did pod racing once, right?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Yeah – only human who can do it," the kid says, with some faint echo of pride.

"Do you miss it?"

Anakin shrugs. "It hasn't been that long. Maybe a little," he admits.

"Well, maybe you could've been pod racer all your life," Obi-Wan says. "You could've gotten fame out of it, glory, riches – only human who can pod race, that's the stuff for headlines and documentaries, you know. That's a life you could've led and who knows, it could've been _amazing_. I think about being Knight the same way – I could've had that life, it could've been great, but I'll never know. The thought of it sort of hangs about, the could've-been."

Anakin says nothing for a moment, thinking about it. "So you… aren't mad at Qui-Gon about AgriCorps," he says slowly. "What are you mad about then?"

Obi-Wan sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "Hell if I know, kid," he says. All of it and at the same time none of it. Mostly he's just frustrated about the years he wasted on… on all of it. He hadn't, really, been sitting idle and just lamenting his fate – there's no sitting idle in the Service Corps, there's always too much to do – but just…

If he knew back then what he knows now – what he's finally starting to figure out – then those years would've been so much easier. If he could've just dedicated himself to AgriCorps without the baggage of… of being a failure then…

Obi-Wan bows his head for a moment and sighs. Growing up is exhausting, he thinks and then looks at Anakin. The boy is looking at the fish tanks, looking troubled and uneasy. He's shivering.

"Are you cold?" Obi-Wan asks. "Go get a tunic or something."

Anakin shifts where he sits, making a face. "I don't have one."

Obi-Wan stares at him for a moment before the words register. "You don't have one."

Anakin shrugs and Obi-Wan looks him over. The kid hasn't changed his clothes once, now that he thinks about it. And he doesn't have a tunic to wear. The kid literally has nothing but the clothes on his back – and now, a little fish tank. Like that helps.

"I'm going to kick Qui-Gon's ass," Obi-Wan says flatly.

"What, why?" Anakin asks with alarm.

"He's an idiot," Obi-Wan grunts and stands up, grabbing the bottle by the neck as he stands up. "Come on – let's get you some clothes."

"What?" Anakin says.

"I got spare – come on," Obi-Wan says impatiently and then leads the confused, vaguely alarmed Anakin to one of the store rooms. In there he has various stuff – furniture, tents, extra bedding, some actual hammocks, tarps, so on and so on, stuff one might need while setting up a camp in middle of nowhere in some backwater planet. He has also crates full of clothes.

While Anakin watches wide eyed, Obi-Wan slaps the wine bottle on a near crate and then digs into the crate of clothes, checking packages for sizes – they're wrapped in plastoid as sets with a tunic, trousers and socks in each one – shoes he keeps in a different crate. Each package is marked with material and size and it doesn't take long at all for Obi-Wan to find a set of that should fit Anakin.

"You have a crate full of clothes," Anakin says, amazed, as Obi-Wan slaps the plastoid package against his chest.

"I work at relief effort," Obi-Wan shrugs. "Something you learn early on – there's always someone out there who could use a new set of clothing. Just wasn't expecting to find one on my damn ship – why didn't Qui-Gon get you clothes?"

"We didn't stay at the Jedi Temple for long," Anakin admits, even as he stares at the package. "This is… just a loan, right?"

"Keep 'em," Obi-Wan waves a hand. "I get them for free at the station – rich worlds donate a lot of cheap clothing to the Service Corps."

Anakin blinks. "They just… give clothes away?" he asks warily.

"Mass produced cheaply made clothes, yes," Obi-Wan shrugs. "It makes them feel good about themselves, like they're doing something good and charitable and whatnot. Well it helps some people."

Anakin frowns, looking at the plastoid package. "They should send this stuff to Tatooine," he mutters. "People could use it."

"Charity like this is kind of double edged sword," Obi-Wan shrugs and roots around the crate for more, glancing at the boy. Tatooine, huh? "Sure, worlds like Alderaan could probably cloth every person on a planet like Tatooine and it wouldn't cost them much – and in doing so they'll put every clothier shop in Tatooine out of business. After all, who will buy clothing, who will pay to get their clothes repaired, if they can get new ones for free?"

"But everyone will have clothes," Anakin says, frowning.

"And numerous people will be out of income with no way to feed themselves or their families," Obi-Wan shrugs and comes away with another package. "You gotta be careful about these things – charity is well and good, but it can disrupt local economies, and ultimately make things worse in the long run for a moment of relief."

Anakin frowns at the clothing package. "Yeah," he then agrees.

Obi-Wan tears the plastoid package open and unfurls the cloth inside. It's a tunic made of thick synthwool, and looks about Anakin's size. "Try this on," he says, holding the thing out to the boy.

Anakin hesitates and then takes it, squirming into the tunic. It's not very complicated in design – just a length of dark brown cloth with wide sleeves, not terribly different from Jedi tunics. It's a little too big on the boy but… he'd grow into it.

"It's warm," Anakin murmurs, tugging at the wide sleeves.

"Good," Obi-Wan says, closing the crate and grabbing the wine bottle again. "Now, if you need something, how about you ask, hm?" he says, leaning into the crate and pointing a finger at the boy. "I know you're probably not used to it, but I got stuff, I can give you stuff if you need it. Okay?"

"Um… yeah, okay," Anakin says, swallowing and hugging the still plastoid wrapped set of clothes to his chest. "I don't want to be a bother though."

"Kid, an advice for you – asking for help isn't bother. Trying to figure out what you need or what's wrong when you won't _say_ anything, that's a fucking nuisance," Obi-Wan says, folding his arms and scowling at the kid. "Speak up if you have a problem, no one's going to punish you for that. Not on my fucking ship."

Anakin's lip quivers and he nods, looking down. He hesitates for a moment, wavering. "I'm scared Qui-Gon won't teach me," he says then. "Do you… do you think he'll just leave me here?"

Obi-Wan eyes him for a moment and then sighs. "If you ask for it, yeah, he will," he says then. "You seem good fit for AgriCorps and you'll be safer here than on your own. If he gets a way to get out of teaching you all the while knowing you'll be taken care of then, yeah."

Anakin's chin lowers and he makes a face like he wants to cry, and Obi-Wan sighs, crouching down to look at the kid. "Honest talk here, kid – it's not glamorous," Obi-Wan says. "The Service Corps are hard work, and we don't get that grace period of getting to rely on our Masters to take responsibility and care for us – we don't have master-apprentice system. We learn in classrooms, in workshops and if we're lucky on the field, guided by a working Specialist. And here in AgriCorps we're responsible for _feeding_ people – and every time we fail, it's… it's bad. People die. Sometimes in hundreds of thousands, sometimes in millions."

Anakin stares at him, wide eyed and Obi-Wan shrugs. "Most planets' populations far outstrip their food production capacities," he says. "And even those who have food production might have a disaster that destroys it. A plague might kill their crops, invasive species might eat it all. Some of that is on us, if we can't help them – and you can bet your ass they don't let us forget it, every time we fail."

Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head. "But at the same time… I know how many people I've saved. I know how many people will get to eat tomorrow, because of what I did for them. That number is in millions now," he says. "And yeah, if it hadn't been me it could've been someone else doing that work, I don't matter especially, nothing I do is unique. It's not exactly something we're supposed to take pride in, but here I am. It's not a small thing for me."

Anakin's all wide eyed now, looking both alarmed and awed. "You've saved millions of people?" the boy asks.

"Well, they probably wouldn't have just dropped and died but I've help set up a stable food production on dozens of systems on brink of famine, or already suffering famine," Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not as good as taking a hit for someone or being their bodyguard, or whatever… but it still matters. And that's enough for me."

It's strangely soothing to say it out loud. It _is_ enough for him. Sometimes he regrets things and is bitter, but… but that's just momentary passing thought, brought to the surface raw and writhing by Qui-Gon's presence on board the _Verdant_ , but otherwise not that important to his life anymore. He could've left long time ago, had he wanted to. Lot of Service Corps members did, when they got the opportunity. Obi-Wan could've too – he'd been planning to. Just as soon as he got his ship, he'd be out of there, working on his own, being his own man, and damn the Jedi Order…

But the work matters to him.

"Anyway. If you want to become a Jedi Knight, Qui-Gon will probably fight for you, to make that happen," Obi-Wan says to Anakin. "The man cares about you, he'll do what he feels he must for you. But if you want to stay with the AgriCorps…" he shrugs.

Anakin looks down, at the plastoid wrapped clothes and frowns. "I don't… I don't know," he admits, very quietly and looks at him. "AgriCorps don't have Masters and Padawans?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "There is too much work for individual Specialists to be pulled away from it to teach just the one student."

"So I couldn't be your Padawan, huh."

Obi-Wan blinks at him and then frowns. "You – what?" he asks.

Anakin shrugs, awkward, and looks down. "I like your ship," he mutters. "And you're not bad person. Just a little grumpy. I think you'd be good teacher."

Obi-Wan can feel his eyebrows jumping upwards. "I see," he says, as dignified as he can manage. "Holy shit, kid."

Anakin winces. "Sorry, I – don't mean you – I mean, you don't have to of course, I just – it was just a thought. If – if Qui-Gon won't teach me then I wouldn't mind being taught by you, but, but if the AgriCorps don't work like that, then. Um." He shrugs, all but folding in on himself in embarrassment. "But I don't – I still want Qui-Gon to teach me. I don't know, sorry."

Obi-Wan tilts his head a little at the kid. He's not drunk enough for this, he decides and stands up. "Well, you're still doing the observation thing for… who knows how long," he says, frowning. "There's time to figure it out. Who knows, maybe Qui-Gon can wisen-up too in the meantime."

"Yeah," Anakin says quietly and frowns. "Are you really going to kick his ass?" he asks then curiously.

"I am _so_ tempted," Obi-Wan sighs and lifts the bottle to have a drink. "Chances are I'd just end up with my own ass kicked. Qui-Gon is a idiot but he is still a Jedi Knight… somehow. Not entirely sure _how_ anymore, though."

Anakin laughs awkwardly at that and Obi-Wan sighs. "Go to bed, kid," he says. "It's like two in the morning. Way past your bedtime."

"I don't have a bedtime," Anakin says.

"Congratulations, you now have a bedtime and it's two in the morning," Obi-Wan says flatly, giving him a look. "Chop chop, get to it."

Anakin grins a little at that. "Okay. Good night, Kenobi," he says. "And thanks. For the clothes."

"My name is Obi-Wan," the agriculturists says with a wave of his hand. "And you're welcome. Good night, Anakin."

Anakin hesitates and then ducks in. Obi-Wan doesn't register it‘s a hug until it's already over and the boy is hurrying out of the storage room, his steps quiet on the metal floors. For a moment Obi-Wan just stares after him before sighing and hoisting himself up to sit on the clothing crate.

Poor kid.

"So, turns out Jedi Order is messed up," Obi-Wan murmurs to himself and lifts the bottle, snorting. "And water is wet and space is vast. More news at eleven."


	11. Chapter 11

Qui-Gon finds Kenobi asleep in the kitchen when he gets up that morning, his head buried in folded arms with what looks like empty bottle of wine next to him. He's not entirely sure what to think of it at first – of all the things he'd figured out about the young man… drinking himself unconscious, or at least asleep, doesn't quite seem to fit.

But currently he rather doesn't have the room to criticise the man, Qui-Gon muses, and after a moment of concerned hesitation over him, he turns to head to the fresher, as originally intended. He takes a moment to go through his morning ablutions before heading back to the kitchen – where Kenobi remains asleep at the table.

Qui-Gon looks him over, wondering. Of course he hadn't been blind to the emotional turmoil his words had caused, and he's now keenly aware of what the early years in AgriCorps must've been like for the man, back then a young boy. The bitterness is deeply ingrained, rooted into his formative years and no doubt hard to let go, had the man even wanted to. Qui-Gon isn't sure he wants to.

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon decides to ignore the sleeping man. Kenobi would wake up or not as his drunken stupor deemed fit – in the meanwhile, Qui-Gon would get started in on some tea.

It's a little odd. The bubbling of water coming from the tanks seems louder and the light around the ship seems… colder somehow. Of course there is nothing natural about the lighting of the ship, it's all artificial and so is the strange sunrise the ship's lights give them, and still…

Qui-Gon selects the tea from Kenobi's cupboards and sets it to seep, leaning onto the counter and watching the plants that have spilled over it. Spices, mostly, with few salad greens – the stuff Kenobi uses the most in cooking, grabbing handful of this and handful of that and throwing it in freshly cut.

Qui-Gon thinks he will miss the man's cooking, once this would all be over. Kenobi is not a graceful host and the effort he puts into the food is mediocre at best – but the food is good, fresh and earthly. Compared to Temple rations, it was high cuisine.

Well, he'd miss other things. Like the comfort of his own, wilful ignorance and obliviousness.

Taking out a cup, Qui-Gon pours for himself and then turns to look at Kenobi – still asleep, even with borderline stranger so near. Either Kenobi has coded him as an ally or his awareness in Force has diminished – no, rather it has turned to other things. A farmer would not need a constant battle readiness – he hardly needs to keep an eye on threats constantly, does he?

The man's hair is a mess. It's loose, spilling across his arms and shoulders and part of Qui-Gon, the part that takes care of his own outlooks, itches to grab a brush – Kenobi's hair looks knotted. The man doesn't pay much attention his appearances, Qui-Gon knows. At most he might pull his hair up to a knot, but that seems to be about it. His beard he doesn't do anything with as far as Qui-Gon can tell – it's a little long and unkempt. A trim would do him good, Qui-Gon thinks and then sighs and looks away.

He's trying to distract himself.

He'd spent good five hours in meditation the last day and he's not sure he got any closer to an answer or a solution. It doesn't help that he's not entirely sure what the question is. He thought he could give Kenobi an honest answer, as honest an answer as he'd managed to find anyway, and it would… solve things. But in the end perhaps it had only made things worse. Kenobi's nightly drinking certainly doesn't look good, now.

There is an _unease_ that has settled into his core now, though. A vague sense of _something is wrong_ that he can't quite grasp. Something about all of this, him, Kenobi, Anakin, the AgriCorps – his own issues… it bubbles inside him like the air in Kenobi's fish tanks, and it's making him feel anxious.

Something seems to have shifted inside him. He's on a cusp of some sort of epiphany but he hasn't grasped it yet – like a reverse déjà-vu it sits on the tip of his tongue, elusive and teasing.

Qui-Gon sips at his tea and then turns his attention to the tanks. Why is Anakin's aquaponics set up sitting on the floor? Had Kenobi moved it?

There is a sound of sudden shift as Kenobi jolts slightly where he's half lying on the table, coming to with a jerk. He shifts and then groans, lifting his head painfully and rubbing at his shoulder.

Qui-Gon looks – the man's a mess, there's an impression of wrinkles on his cheek from the tunic he's wearing and his beard sticks every which way. As he yawns, his neck cracks and then he winces painfully, making a face.

"Good morning," Qui-Gon greets him.

"Fuck you," Kenobi answers and then catches himself, turning bleary eyes to him. It seems to take a moment for him to actually register what he's seeing. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Eloquent, Qui-Gon thinks wryly. "There's tea," he offers.

Kenobi stares at him annoyedly for a moment and then pushes himself up with a groan. He arches his back, stretching out the kinks left behind by his awkward sleeping position and Qui-Gon's eyes drift over him, down to where the tunic is riding up, and then looks away smoothly.

That's the last thing they need right now, he thinks to himself and sips his tea

Kenobi walks, unsteady at first but growing more stable, to the counter to get himself a cup. He then drains it in three gulps, seemingly not even feeling the heat of the liquid, as he empties the cup and then almost throws it into the washer.

"Don't go anywhere," Kenobi says as he turns to leave, pointing a finger at him. "I got a bone to pick with you." And then he walks away.

"Sounds promising," Qui-Gon murmurs after him and then places his tea cup on the kitchen table, going to check up on Anakin's little aquaponics system. It doesn't look like it's been disturbed too badly – the fish are happily swimming under the bubbling caused by the downpour of water from the planter box above, and the plants above seem to be doing fine. No sign of the seeds they had planted yet, though.

Carefully, Qui-Gon eases his fingers under the bowl and hefts it up, carrying it back to the kitchen table and pushing it near the wall. The water jostles a little but nothing spills and after few agitated movements from the fish inside, they settle in again.

Quietly Qui-Gon sits to wait and watch the fish.

Kenobi returns some ten minutes later, fresh from a shower with his hair damp and clean set of clothes on. He gives Qui-Gon a look and then starts digging out food goods, apparently intending to make breakfast.

Qui-Gon watches him clatter around, getting a bowl and a whisk and starting in on what looks like dough. Moment later it dawns on Qui-Gon – the man is going to make pancakes it seems. Oddly pleasant choice, for this particular morning.

Qui-Gon waits, but Kenobi is not talking. In the end, he clears his throat. "You had something to say."

"Tch," Kenobi answers, whisking the batter for a moment in annoyed silence before turning to him. "I have decided you're not intentionally an asshole – you're just a moron and a complete fucking idiot."

Qui-Gon opens his mouth and then closes it in a snap. "Alright," he says, somewhat warily. He – thinks that is better than to be thought as intentionally malicious… probably. "I'm sorry," he offers.

"See, that there, that's not good enough," Kenobi says, pointing a finger at him. "You're a Jedi Master and diplomat, right, one of the best in the Order? You do not get to have the excuse of _I'm too stupid to know better_. You should be able to figure this shit out. The galaxy is full of resources – what's your damn excuse for not utilising them?"

"I'm sorry – what are you accusing me of this time?" Qui-Gon asks, a little lost now. This doesn't seem like it has to do with his rejection of Kenobi as his Padawan.

"Of being a wilfully ignorant," Kenobi says and sets the bowl down, banging it against the metal counter hard enough to send an echo travelling through the ship. "But thing is, I'm not sure if it's just you being… _you_ , or if it's the whole Jedi Order, being back-ass-wards. I'm starting to think it might be the latter and that's fucking terrifying."

Qui-Gon stares at him, uncomprehending. "What?" he asks finally.

"Anakin," Kenobi says, which really doesn't help at all. The man motions at the tanks. "Has the one set of clothing – did you know that? The kid only has the clothes of his back. And you didn't even think to do a health check up on him, or think about vaccinations – _why_?"

Qui-Gon frowns. "That is on me, I honestly did not even think of. It wasn't intentional disregard; it simply did not come to my mind."

"Why not?" Kenobi asks. "The kid was a slave. Why didn't you think he might need to be at least looked at, just in case?"

Qui-Gon shakes his head, rather helpless.

"Because the Jedi Order provides," Kenobi says and points a finger at him. "Just like they provide for clothing. All Jedi Knights wear uniform clothes, mass produced, requisitioned in bulk, right? So you never so much think about where your clothes come from. It's just not an issue for you. So, now that Anakin is in cusp of joining the Order, it's not an issue for him, either. Except last night I found him shivering here, cold, because he doesn't have more clothes than the ones he's currently wearing."

Qui-Gon blinks at that, slowly. "Oh," he says. "His mother packed him a bag – I assumed –"

"Don't assume," Kenobi snaps at him and then snaps his fingers rapidly couple of times in realisation. "That's it, that's the fucking point here – you just _assuming_ shit. You assume the kid is alright, and so don't do anything to make things better for him – in the meanwhile he's a radiation-riddled, toxic-breathing _mess_ who is probably constantly cold because, oh yeah, he comes from a desert planet where I bet the temperatures sit nicely above thirty. Don't they?"

"Ah," Qui-Gon says and leans back, setting his tea cup down. "Closer to forty."

"Well, that makes things better, doesn't it," Kenobi mutters and throws him a look.

"So I suppose I should get Anakin some clothes," Qui-Gon murmurs.

"Already got you covered there," Kenobi says and rolls his eyes. "You might want to keep it in mind later – but that's… that's not the point of this. You have no idea how to teach, do you? Or how to take care of kids."

"Evidently no," Qui-Gon sighs and shakes his head. "Hence why rather not do it –"

"You know teaching and child care aren't fucking Force given gifts, right?" Kenobi asks. "These are learnable skills which, it so happens, people teach about. There are classes about this. There are seminars and workshops, whole fucking schools dedicated to teaching – you know in most worlds teachers usually need to have _degrees_ in, oh, teaching? Education itself is a branch of education. It's not something you just know naturally – you need to _learn it_ first."

Qui-Gon frowns, turning his eyes away from the man. "I'm a working Knight, I rarely have the time to –"

"Then read _a fucking book_!" Kenobi snaps at him, whirling around to face him. He takes a breath to calm down. "Don't they tell you this stuff in the Temple?" he asks then, sounding frustrated and confused. "Do you really not know – how is that you have the access biggest archive of recorded information in the galaxy and yet you're incapable of learning about this stuff? Even looking it up?"

Qui-Gon takes a breath to explain – and then releases it in a frustrated sigh. He doesn't have an explanation. It just had never… occurred to him.

Rubbing at his forehead Qui-Gon thinks about it, trying to remember. Tahl and Micah had done their best to help him, during and after Xanatos, but they'd both been good teachers so effortlessly and their tips and tricks had never worked for him. It came down to personality, he thought back then – his was too off putting compared to them. And his own Master…

He might have, once, looked up the texts of old masters and seen how they'd gone by teaching but it had never occurred to him to… to, what, take classes? To do that he would've had to seek them outside the Temple so it… had never occurred to him.

Had Tahl and Micah taken lessons? He doubts it. He doesn't think he's ever heard of a Jedi actually seeking tutelage outside the Temple. He's… not sure it would be approved off. He can imagine it now, too, going to the Archives to search such a thing with the librarians breathing down his neck, previewing every search…

Judging and disproving it.

Qui-Gon frowns and looks at his tea cup, trying to untangle the uneasy mess of realisation that seems to be only getting more complicated with this added in.

"In the Service Corps, we learn in classrooms," Kenobi says. "It's not as intimate as one on one teaching, not as in-depth, but for us it's more efficient. One of the things we're taught in AgriCorps, the most important thing… is how to instruct others."

Qui-Gon looks up. "But you don't take apprentices?"

"Not in traditional sense," Kenobi shrugs. "But the work demands we teach our methods to others. The point of AgriCorps isn't to provide for worlds in need – it is to aid them so that they can provide for themselves. To that end we need to know how to teach them to do that. You can't become a Specialist without getting full marks from that class."

Kenobi folds his arms and looks at him. "You called me a better teacher than yourself," he says. "Sure, why not. But I'm not a good teacher because it's just how I am – it's because I _learned_ to be and because by now I have years of experience in it. It's a skill I've mastered – not some gift I naturally possess. But you – you were never taught to be a teacher, were you?"

Qui-Gon eyes him and feels an oddest sense of longing for a lost opportunity. Not for the Padawan Kenobi might've been, the Knight he could've become – though by now Qui-Gon knows for sure that Kenobi would've been a magnificent Jedi Knight. But to become that he would've never been this, and what he is now is something special.

"No," Qui-Gon admits and thinks about it, trying to remember what he was taught on the subject. Not much at all. "All my Master said was that it would come to me in time and that he looked forward to seeing me figure it out."

Kenobi arches his eyebrows. "Your Master sounds like a complete dick," he says flatly.

"He sits in the Jedi Council," Qui-Gon says with a mild frown.

"Well, then it's official," Kenobi scoffs. "Seriously, that was all the training you Knights get?"

Qui-Gon shakes his head with a sigh. "I don't know," he says. "I never looked into it; it didn't ever occur to me that I could. To be a Master, it always seemed like something you needed to master yourself, through trial and error."

" _Trial_ and _error_ being the students you ruin in the meanwhile?" Kenobi asks in disbelief and throws his hands up. "Force – it sounds like Jedi Order is actively sabotaging itself. What the hell."

Qui-Gon sighs and leans his elbows onto the table, frowning at it. It… does sound like that, does it? And it's not just this – as prime an example as he is, Kenobi himself makes for a better one.

A youngling taught to become a Knight who _ages out_ into the AgriCorps and then who, even while he does exceedingly well for himself there, remains forever bitter, considering himself something of a failure because he didn't get what he was trained for, what was promised to him in his childhood years. Why?

Why did they give their younglings these expectations when so many of them were bound to fail? And in the meanwhile the AgriCorps do great, life-saving work, and they're only part of the Service Corps, the… biggest part.

Medical Corps is the next biggest, and only one third the size of the Agricultural Corps. They produce literally live-saving medicine and work on diseases and ailments to produce cures – their work is more _literally_ life-saving, and that doesn't even count for the actual field medics from the MedCorps, which go around healing people in worlds in need.

Exploration Corps are a much smaller branch of the Service Corps, seeing that Exploration isn't really the highest point of interest in the Republic currently. Most they do is investigate the recently discovered worlds and explore and document them, everything from local star systems to detailing the flora and fauna. They are the highest authority in deeming planets safe for colonisation.

And then there are the Educational Service Corps… of which Qui-Gon knows very little of. They are archivists, librarians and researchers mostly. Assumingly they are also teachers, though what they teach and where and to whom…

Kenobi gets out a pan and not much later the kitchen is filled with the faint aroma of cooking dough. Qui-Gon lifts his head to look at the man, watching how Kenobi pushes his hair back and away from his way couple of times before giving up and just binding his long hair back into a messy bun. He still looks like a mess – he would've never fit into Jedi Temple like this, barefooted with his trousers riding a little too low, his tunic worn soft and thin with years of use.

Qui-Gon thinks he would've liked to have a Master like Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even briefly a teacher like him at some point of his life, early on, might've made a great difference in his life. Maybe he wouldn't have these difficulties now, if someone like Obi-Wan Kenobi had been there, to snap some sense into him.

But Jedi Order doesn't produce Masters like Obi-Wan Kenobi. It produces Masters like Qui-Gon Jinn. And considering that Qui-Gon knows he's considered to be one of the most casual, rule breaking Jedi of the Order… that's saying something.

Is the Jedi Order systematically sabotaging itself? He isn't sure. It can't be happening knowingly; surely the Masters of the Jedi High Council would not allow it, but perhaps…

Things in the Jedi Temple are as they have been for centuries. That's the fact they all live with, in the Jedi Temple – that they stand as the unchanging pillar of tradition in the ever-shifting mass of Coruscant and the Galaxy as whole. Their ways, their traditions and their teachings would hold true no matter how the galaxy would change – the Jedi Order would forever remain the Jedi Order, and no outside force could tamper with it.

But perhaps over the years it had changed inward. Some small subtle shift, which turned into a taboo or unspoken rule, which got perpetuated over the ages. Perhaps joining the Service Corps hadn't always involved _failing_ to become Jedi Knight. The service Corp members are still _Jedi_ after all, they follow the teachings. They are just not… Jedi Knights.

Why is that a bad thing? Who decided that to be a healer or a farmer or a teacher was worse than being a warrior?

Qui-Gon frowns as the thought finally coagulates into a concept that he can put into words. It's… rather alarming set of words.

"What?" Kenobi asks, while pouring more batter into the pan.

Qui-Gon looks up, blinking at the young man. "The Jedi Order has an elitist caste system," he says.

"What?" Kenobi asks in confusion.

"A borderline one, at any rate," Qui-Gon says, trying to delve into the concept, trying to detach himself from it. "The system of student selection is akin to nepotism and elitism – should be meritocratic but it's evidently not. You're a proof of that. All power over the Order lies in the hands of the High Council – who are all Jedi Knights. You can't even attain the rank of Master in the Service Corps. Therefore the system is naturally biased towards the Order of Jedi Knights – and in the meanwhile the Service Corps are given… lesser importance."

Kenobi stares at him like he'd grown a second head and Qui-Gon leans back, stroking his beard as he considers it. "An elitist… caste system," Kenobi repeats. "We have a rank system."

"Yes, but these are not merely our jobs, these are our lives," Qui-Gon says. "Our ranks affect our way of living, our station in life. Therefore… a caste system."

"Right," Kenobi says, frowning. "I'm… not that well read on political theory, but that's not a good form of system, is it?"

Qui-Gon hums, noncommittal. "Depends on how it functions," he says wryly. He's not sure which is worse – that the concept echoes with terrible ring of truth or the fact that… if the Jedi Order is indeed operating as an elitist caste system, then it's a very poorly functioning one indeed.

"So what does that mean?" Kenobi asks, looking at him worriedly. "And not just overall, but for you and Anakin?"

Qui-Gon shakes his head. "I don't know," he admits and looks up. "I fear I got rather sidetracked," he admits. "What were you saying?"

Kenobi considers him silently. "If Anakin chooses to become a Knight and you get to train him, you need to take lessons and pay attention," he says. "Or I will come to Coruscant to beat your ass."

Qui-Gon blinks at that. "I – yes," he says and frowns, trying to set his mind back on the right tracks. "Yes, of course. You're right."

"Damn right I am," Kenobi says. "Now get a plate – we're having pancakes now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Oasis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530963) by [MarbleGlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleGlove/pseuds/MarbleGlove)




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